Deep
by Jessa4865
Summary: An undercover case leads to a lot more.
1. Chapter 1

Deep  
Jezyk  
Disclaimer: Not mine, I swear.  
Spoilers: Anything through Torch, just in case.  
Summary: An undercover case leads to a lot more.

_After_

_His hand was shaking as he knocked on the door. His heart pounded as he waited for an answer. He didn't think he'd ever been as nervous as when the door finally began to swing open. _

_Her mouth curved up in an attempt at a smile. "Hi." She stepped back out of the way, her movements slow and stilted._

_He stepped through the door, already rethinking his reasons for being there. "Why don't you sit down?" He forced a smile and avoided making eye contact as she started toward the couch._

_It took her longer than it should have to cross the room, and longer still for her to find a position comfortable enough for her to relax. "Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you want it."_

_He wasn't thirsty. He wasn't hungry. But he went into the kitchen anyway. He needed to find a way to justify his presence there since he couldn't tell her the truth._

_She was in no shape for the truth._

_Maybe when her face was a little less pale._

_Maybe when she didn't look so damn sick._

Before

Olivia sat at her desk, reading the statement in front of her. There was something about the girl's story that seemed familiar, but she was having a hard time putting her finger on it. She dropped the folder on her desk and glanced at Elliot.

He looked up from his own paperwork after a moment. "Something I can help you with?"

The memory finally flashed in her head. "Do you have Halina's file?"

He chuckled at her as he sifted through the stack of folders on the side of his desk. "You mean Marina's? It's got to be here somewhere."

Before she could correct him, he nodded at her desk. "It's right in front of you, Liv. You need some sleep."

She rolled her eyes. "No, I have Marina's. I'm looking for Halina's." She waited for Elliot to make the connection.

His mouth dropped open for a second as he got it. He started nodding as he picked up half the stack and moved it to sort though the folders on the bottom. "You're right. Different girl."

She grinned as he handed the file over. "Same story." Setting the open files next to one another, she took out a notebook and began noting the similarities.

Elliot stood and walked around the desks, reading her notes over her shoulder. "Good catch."

"It's really pathetic we didn't realize it sooner." She shook her head, already accepting the mantle of blame for Marina's horror despite the fact that it had been going on before Halina had ever found her way into their cases.

His hand fell on her shoulder, squeezing lightly for just a moment. "No, Liv, it's called being overworked."

Shrugging off his attempt to reassure her, she pushed back from her desk, files in hand. "I've got a bad feeling about this." She led the way into the captain's office without bothering to check if her partner was following her. She knew he was.

Ten minutes later, Cragen was looking over the files. "I really hope you're not right about this."

She didn't want to be, but she knew she was. She knew there was more to the story than two similar cases; she feared there were a lot more girls. One of the doctors had called them down to Bellevue to talk to Halina Maslov a few months earlier. She'd been brought into the emergency room by her aunt, who demanded the eighteen-year-old be looked at. Halina had been missing for the better part of four months, though Panya had neglected to report the disappearance, which she reluctantly admitted had to do with the less than legal means by which they'd entered the country only a few weeks prior to the disappearance. Halina simply reappeared one day on her aunt's front steps as though no time had passed since she left. The girl had been terrified, traumatized, refusing to let anyone touch her. Eventually Halina had consented to the exam, which came back inconclusive. She was in good physical health, no bumps or bruises, evidence of sexual activity, but not conclusive for rape. Halina's obvious fear and Panya's overbearing manner concerned the doctor too much to ignore.

It had taken all of Olivia's skill to get Halina to talk. And when she heard the details, Olivia could hardly blame her for being afraid. She'd been held as a sex slave for a couple, forced to participate in any number of sex acts with no ability to refuse, locked in a tiny room when she was not being used for the couple's pleasure. After four months of unimaginable abuse, the girl had been "returned" because she wasn't compliant enough for their tastes.

She'd been too frightened to remember how she'd gotten sold in the first place and had been blindfolded until she was dropped off on her aunt's steps.

The case was frustrating because they had absolutely nothing to go on – no evidence, no information as to who was responsible for the transaction, and only the vaguest description of the couple she'd been with. Looking for a man with dark hair and a woman with light hair would take them forever, especially since Halina was so frightened and upset that Olivia couldn't swear the recollection was accurate.

Olivia was disappointed in herself for having not immediately connected the dots when Marina had appeared at her desk two months later. Decidedly braver than Halina, twenty-year-old Marina had taken it upon herself to talk to the police. Although she too had questionable immigration status, she firmly believed that someone should do something about what had happened to her. Marina Tselikova had also recently arrived in New York when she was taken, having arranged to live in a family friend's apartment until she found a job and a place of her own. The day after she flew in, she left home early to look for a job. Unlike Halina's reluctance to answer questions, Marina had kept herself sane by clinging to the details of her experience. She'd started walking the blocks closest to her friends' apartment, stopping at each restaurant, inquiring after waitressing positions. The day had been frustrating and long, and she'd been quite a distance away by the time her hopefulness had been answered with a curt nod and the assurance that yes, they were looking for help. She'd been told to follow the bartender to the manager's office, except that as soon as she stepped through the door, it was locked behind her.

She'd been scared and tried to leave, but several men blocked the exit. She was brought before a man and a woman who'd whispered about her, looking her over, making her turn around, laughing when she continued asking about being a waitress. Marina said she remembered the woman nodding at someone behind her just before she felt a needle in her arm.

When she woke up, she was forced to change her clothes into a low cut top and short skirt. She had photos taken of her and then told to wait until there was work for her. She asked to leave, begged and cried, but the men ignored her, locking her in a small room.

And then she too was living with a couple, asked to do things she had no intention of doing. Unlike Halina who participated out of fear, Marina had refused. She was beaten and starved until she gave in, her captors finding her spirit amusing. She was there for over six months before the couple grew tired of her and wanted to exchange her for a new girl.

Marina was willing to describe everything, even sat down with a sketch artist to try to identify the man and woman who'd held her.

Olivia had been going over the information regarding the restaurant where Marina had been held in preparation for going there when she'd recognized a connection.

Elliot moved toward the door, anticipating Cragen's order to check it out. "Come on, Liv, let's go."

But rather than letting them go, the boss shook his head. "This isn't an isolated case. With Marina's statement, it's clear there's a lot of organization involved here."

Olivia knew what he was getting at. If they popped up and started questioning the management about kidnapping girls to use as sex slaves, they'd get an orchestrated wall of silence from everyone around. Not to mention that organized crime ran rampant in the Russian community. "We should call OCCB."

Cragen nodded. "Get your files together. I'll give them a call."

If there was one thing Olivia truly hated about the NYPD, it was the damned pissing matches over jurisdiction. She and Elliot had spent two solid days waiting for word of their next step. She was panicked, petrified that there were more girls living as slaves, being tortured mentally and physically, abused in horrific ways while OCCB and Cragen brought out the measuring sticks.

In the end, Captain Ellis admitted that they were aware of the girls, always young, freshly immigrated illegals, being sold into sexual slavery by the Russian mob. The problem was that they were simply more interested in the weapons and drugs changing hands than in the girls.

On the morning of the third day, the body of Anya Dotsenko was found in an alley, beaten, raped, and strangled, after having disappeared a week earlier. Ellis begrudgingly shrugged when Olivia lit into him, asking him if it was a Special Victims case yet.

Cragen stepped between them, trying to keep the detective he agreed with from getting in trouble. "Ken, you have anything to help?"

He shrugged again, making it clear that he really didn't want them involved in his case in any way. "We've got a man on the inside. Name's Peter, he's going by Petya, he can probably introduce someone in."

Elliot's eyebrows flew up. "Undercover?"

Ellis snickered. "You think there's any other way? They'll die before they'll give a cop a straight answer."

And so, it was set. They talked to Peter, aka Petya, got an invitation to the restaurant where they would pose as a couple interested in spicing up their sex life. According to Peter, they would have to be introduced to the players, show up a few times, make themselves seem trustworthy, before they would be able to get any information.

OCCB had a house they could use, one that had been set up a few months earlier for an undercover op that never happened. With the aid of a few faux appliance delivery men, Olivia's and Elliot's clothes were dropped off while they studied up on their new covers. Elliot would become Edward Grant, an old college buddy of Petya's, a man who'd made his money on Wall Street, and spent it on whatever he wanted. Olivia was Sarah, his well-to-do wife, who expected to get everything she wanted.

And of course, what Edward and Sarah wanted, was a young Russian plaything.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

_After_

_He wasted as much time as he possibly could, eventually taking two bottles of water out of the fridge as a cover. Then he slowly made his way to the living room. He panicked for a moment, wondering if it would be too obvious that he was trying to avoid her by sitting across the room. Even though he was there, at her apartment having sought her out, he knew the distance would make him look stupid and pathetic. More stupid and pathetic than he already looked. Which honestly required some serious skill._

_ So he chose the far end of the couch instead. "Here." He passed her the bottle, hoping it wasn't blatant that he was avoiding touching her hand._

_ "Thanks." She checked her watch before opening the water. After taking a sip, she reached for one of the pill bottles on the coffee table, helping herself to two tablets. "I feel like all I do is take these anymore."_

_ He said nothing, keeping his eyes from hers. Instead he wondered how long he'd have to stay before he could run for the door. The idea of going to her, of talking to her had been a mistake. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to talk to him. If she had, she would have called._

_ Chalk it up to one more colossal mistake. God knew he was good at making those._

Before

Due to the lifestyle Edward and Sarah lived, Olivia and Elliot had been provided some items for their use during their undercover operation. And so, it was in designer clothes that they left the precinct that evening. Elliot was tickled pink at the Mercedes they'd been loaned, grinning ear to ear at Olivia as he opened the car door for her.

The four-inch heels with a price tag beyond her comprehension hurt like hell, but Olivia knew Sarah would welcome the pain if only to be seen in the latest style. She glared at Elliot, wishing she didn't find it so adorable that he'd suddenly taken to opening doors for her. "You're awfully happy."

His face fell for a moment as he looked her over from head to toe and then came to stand directly in front of her. "Are you taller than me?"

Her mood suddenly brighter, Olivia let herself laugh the sort of laugh she imagined Sarah would laugh. "In these shoes, I am." It wasn't quite so funny a moment later as she tried to get into the car without flashing a little too much leg at her partner. When she looked up, he was staring, ostensibly patiently waiting to close her door, but it was quite obvious he was checking her out. "What are you looking at?"

He grinned as he took in the expanse of leg that was still visible despite her attempts to cover herself. "You'd think for as much as that dress cost it might have included enough fabric to constitute a skirt."

Unable to resist, she licked her lips suggestively. "And here I thought you were enjoying the view."

Embarrassed into silence, a red-faced Elliot closed the door behind her.

The plan was to bump into Petya while they were out for dinner, where hopefully they would attract the attention of those in charge, sparing all of them from the danger of having Petya introduce them from out of the blue. Elliot settled into the character easily, chucking the keys to the brand new car at the valet, making a snarky remark about scratches and handing him a large tip before he helped Olivia to her feet.

She couldn't help but fear he was laying it on a little thick at times, with his gregarious attitude and willingness to grease every wheel with cash, but as they were led to a table immediately, much to the chagrin of the customers who were waiting for tables, she guessed it was ok. And when she caught her reflection in the mirror as they walked, her beautiful, expensive red dress topped off with an almost absurd amount of diamonds on her necklace and bracelet, not to mention the obnoxious rock on her finger, she realized his behavior was no more ridiculous than her appearance.

It felt strange to order drinks and actually ingest them while she was working, but it was necessary. Elliot was carefully nursing his bourbon, letting her know she could drink without fear. Olivia knew her limit and planned to drink just enough for Sarah to appear tipsy. Getting drunk at dinner, after all, would certainly help convince anyone who might be watching that she wasn't a cop.

And honestly, the alcohol would go a good part of the way toward helping her keep her mind off the idea that she was going home with Elliot that night. Well, maybe not keep her mind off it, but it might keep her from being nervous about it. She didn't want to appear nervous; he sure as hell wasn't. She couldn't remember ever seeing him so completely comfortable. Although she knew he was just acting, the same as she was, she could only hope that she looked so natural.

She worked on her second glass of wine after letting Elliot order for both of them. As she picked at her salad, she caught her partner's eye, reading the question before he could voice it.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, I'm great."

He didn't believe her. Because he was her partner. Because he knew how to read her. But he couldn't call her on it. He wasn't her partner right then. He wasn't Elliot. He was Edward, Sarah's husband.

Rather than proclaiming her answer was the bullshit they both knew it was, he did something that only served to unnerve her even more. He reached out, covering her hand where it lay on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Good."

She faked a cough to give her a reason to yank her hand away. Flirting on a regular day was one thing. Flirting without physical contact was one thing. Touching her and holding her eyes while doing so when they were going to be sharing a house for the night, for an untold number of nights, well, that was a different thing altogether. And probably not a good thing either.

Careful to keep her limbs out of reach after that, she ate what she thought was an admirable amount of dinner considering that she wasn't the least bit hungry, drank two more glasses of wine, and even ordered something decadent for dessert.

While they shared the gooey, chocolate concoction she'd requested, Elliot joined her in another glass of wine. She kept her eyes glued to the plate while she tried to keep her mind off the topic of Elliot and chocolate sauce, but it was a losing battle, especially with the way he was using that low, rumbling voice that made her knees weak and muttering about it being 'so good.'

Thankfully, an older woman interrupted them, her black and gray hair gathered up in a loose bun, her wrinkled face so friendly that Olivia couldn't help but smile at the basket of roses on her arm. She held a single red rose in front of Elliot's face, her voice floating out in a thick accent. "A flower for your lady, sir?"

"A flower? I don't think so." Elliot shook his head and Olivia fought the urge to kick him with her stilettos. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and grinned. "How about all of them?"

Mortified, Olivia forced herself not to hang her head in shame as the ecstatic woman dumped the contents of her basket on the table. Sarah wouldn't have expected anything less, she promised herself. Poor Olivia didn't know what to do with forty-some roses.

Elliot smirked as he finished off their desert, proud of himself for having gotten the attention of the entire restaurant. It was exactly the sort of thing that would legitimately bring them the notice of the establishment.

Petya appeared a moment later, playing off the perfect excuse to have suddenly recognized his friend. "Edward, is that you?"

Elliot did a perfect job of acting confused, then surprised. "Petya!" He came to his feet, reaching out to shake Peter's hand and then, slapping him on the back. "How long has it been?"

Peter looked at Olivia, eyeing her in a way he hadn't dared in the squad room. He grinned at Elliot with a raised eyebrow. "Since before you met this beautiful creature!" With an exaggerated flourish that was sure to keep all eyes on them, Peter took Olivia's hand and raised it to his lips. "My dear, I'm sure you can do better than Edward. Let me show you what a good time is all about."

"Have a drink with us." Elliot motioned at his chair as he slid into the booth next to Olivia, his arm moving around her shoulders as he possessively pulled her into his side. He smiled at Olivia, undoubtedly noticing the goose bumps that rose under his fingers. "Sarah, honey, this is my old buddy Petya. Petya, this is my wife Sarah."

Olivia smiled welcomingly at Peter, turning the tables on the fellow detective by letting her gaze take him in from head to toe before he sat down. "So nice to meet you, Petya." Figuring she could screw with both of them, knowing that sexual experimentation was indicated in their covers, Olivia dropped her hand onto Elliot's knee and squeezed. "You never told me you had such a gorgeous friend, sweetheart."

Elliot swallowed uncomfortably, giving Olivia a hint of a warning in the briefest of glares. His arm lifted from her shoulders and signaled at the waiter, demanding a bottle of wine for the group. Then his arm returned to her shoulder, curling around her so naturally, keeping her close to him. "So, Petya, what have you been up to all this time?"

As they pretended to catch up, Olivia downed her fifth and sixth glasses of wine. She'd passed her limit, but there was no way to stop without giving herself away. Sarah was, after all, there with her husband, who she obviously would trust to take care of her when she was drunk. Not to mention that he was the man with whom she shared a satisfying and exciting sex life. And that, Olivia swore to herself, made it ok for her head to drop onto Elliot's shoulder.

But nothing could quite convince her that it was ok when she closed her eyes and nuzzled his neck. And she suspected Elliot was well aware of that.

Not that he did anything to stop her.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

_After_

_ The silence stretched on interminably before Olivia finally cracked. "So, are you back at work yet?"_

_ He nodded, purposely drawing out as much time as he could before he spoke. "Yeah, for a couple weeks now."_

_ She smiled faintly, trying to hide how much she clearly didn't want to talk about it. "How was it?" Her eyes flashed to his for a brief second. "Going back, I mean."_

_ A shrug was the best he could do. He felt sick thinking about it, about the stares, the rumors, the fact that he was back at a job he could well do without while Olivia sat at home. But he owed her something, some kind of answer. So he stared at his shoes and lied. "Good. It was good. Everybody acted like I was going to break the first couple of days, but now, yeah, everything's fine."_

_ When he met her eyes again, the annoyance was written plain as day on her features. But he didn't know if it was because she knew he'd lied or because she wasn't working. Rather than call him on it, she dropped her eyes and turned away with a sigh._

_ "Elliot, what are you doing here?" She was pissed off. She wanted him to leave. _

_ She sounded so much like herself that he wanted to hug her._

Before

Olivia was quite happily meditating on the joys of being so close to her partner. Her eyes were closed, locking out anything that might remind her there was a world beyond Elliot. She could smell his cologne, feel the warmth of his arm around her, hear the rumble of his voice while he talked to Peter. She had no idea what they were saying. She was drunk and had she been a bit less inebriated, she might have realized that she'd taken a nosedive off the tightrope she walked regarding her relationship with her partner.

She was damn near asleep when she picked up on the change in his voice, but she ignored it, far too happy with her current situation to care.

But then his hand, which had sunk to her waist, was back on her shoulder, shaking her.

"Honey, you awake?" The soft, intimate sound of his voice, the endearment, Jesus, the man was more intoxicating than the wine.

"Hmmm." Unable to actually form words, she nodded instead.

There was an answering laugh from him. "Yeah, sure you are."

She didn't bother to respond. She was quite content to drift off to sleep right where she was, right where she belonged, snuggled up against her partner's side. It occurred to her for a fleeting second that he was not her partner, that he was her husband, but she knew that thought wasn't right. She didn't bother to dwell on it.

"Sarah, wake up."

She jerked up, her fuzzy thoughts fading as she responded to the name that wasn't hers. The confusion she felt narrowed her gaze to her partner, seeing the flash of concern in his eyes as he tried to ground her.

"You ok, Sarah?" He held her eyes, repeating the name, reminding her of where they were, of who they were.

Swallowing and nodding, she felt her cheeks flame red in embarrassment. She'd completely lost touch with her senses while she was undercover – a mistake that could have cost them their lives.

He smiled at her, his hand squeezing her shoulder, reassuring her that she'd given nothing away. He lifted the check the waiter had left. "I'm going to go pay this, ok?" He slid over to the edge of the booth, glancing at her to make sure she was really awake. "Keep an eye on my girl, Petya?"

Remembering that they weren't alone, Olivia's eyes turned to Peter's. She smiled weakly at him, praying that he wasn't going to report her actions. What she'd done was dangerous. Dangerous and stupid and far too revealing her for own good.

But Peter smiled back and winked at her. "We've all had a bit too much at times."

She looked around, seeing the almost completely empty restaurant, the empty glasses littering their table, and realized they'd been there long enough to have garnered some sort of attention. And realizing that, she noticed a few people, people who didn't seem to be at the restaurant for dinner, people who were either watching Elliot or her.

Sarah's penchant for experimentation came to her and Olivia figured, drunk and adventurous as she was, Sarah would do something quite bold and stupid and attention-getting without caring who was watching. So while Edward was making nice with the bartender and settling up, Sarah slid over close to Petya, her hand running down his chest, a seductive smile on her lips.

His eyes widened for a moment as he tried to figure out if she was really that drunk or if she was back in her role. Then he smiled, his hand reaching for her exposed thigh.

She leaned over, her mouth close to his ear, her stage whisper expressly designed to seem like she was just too drunk to keep it under wraps. "Why don't you come home with us, Petya?" She pulled back and winked at him, hoping she was a good actress. "Edward won't mind."

And then, due to her acting prowess or something else entirely that Olivia didn't want to dwell on, Peter took the bait. His hand slipped through her hair, gripping the back of her neck, holding her still as he kissed her.

It took everything in her not to shove him off and declare that he wasn't the man she wanted. But Sarah didn't really care, she reminded herself. When Peter finally let go and Olivia sat back with a fake smile on her face, she saw Elliot watching them from the bar. Of course, it would have been strange for him to not be staring, considering that everyone else in the place was staring too. And because he had supposedly just witnessed his wife being quite thoroughly kissed by another man, an old friend of his.

She knew Elliot was fighting his instincts, she could tell by the twinge of his jaw, the heat in his eyes, the way he held his breath as he walked back to the table. As much as she would have enjoyed watching Elliot pound Peter for having touched her, she knew that more was on the line. The faces of Halina and Marina danced through her head, as did the crime scene photos of Anya's tortured body. There was something more important that herself at stake.

Figuring her partner was about out of patience, she tried to calm him the only way she could think of, though she realized as she stood and more or less staggered into his arms, throwing herself against him probably wasn't the way to calm him down. Too late for second thoughts, she knew, as she wound her arms around his neck and giggled loudly.

"Hey, Eddie, I invited your friend over." Her voice was purposely too loud, making sure that everyone watching knew Peter's move hadn't been unwelcome.

Playing his part, Elliot smiled, his arms settling almost naturally around her waist. He looked at Peter expectantly, almost hopefully, so very convincingly to Olivia's drunken state that she giggled again. "You joining us tonight, Petya?"

Peter stood, his hand reaching out, waiting for Elliot to let go of his partner long enough to shake it. "I'd love to, but perhaps another night. I'm afraid I already have plans for tonight."

Elliot fished one of Edward's business cards out of his pocket and offered it to Peter. "Give me a call. We'll set something up."

Peter nodded, dropping another kiss on the back of Olivia's hand, before he walked away.

Then Elliot turned to her, a wide smile that wasn't a bit fake curving his mouth. "Looks like it's just you and me tonight, baby."

Too stupefied by the way Elliot's hands had found their way to her ass, Olivia could only smile back at him.

It was very, very bright. With an unhappy groan, Olivia rolled over, trying to find somewhere to hide from the light. But the other side was even brighter, as the infernal sunlight streamed through the open curtains.

"Good morning, sunshine." Elliot's voice was unnerving because not only was he obviously in a good mood, but it was also rarely the first thing she heard in the morning. At least not in person. Phone calls didn't really count.

She muttered something unflattering about his attitude and where he could stick it.

"Aspirin's right next to you."

Sitting up, she spotted the pills next to a cold glass of water. "I take back everything I was just thinking about you."

He snickered as he finished tying his tie. "I'm heading into work."

Olivia nodded and flopped back onto the bed. "I'll be in as soon as the aspirin starts working."

"Coffee's ready too, if you're in the mood."

She groaned again at the thought and pulled the pillow over her face.

"Ok, then, I guess that means I'm not getting a kiss goodbye."

She moved the pillow to roll her eyes at him. "First day of married life and I already want to kill my husband."

"Trust me, it only goes downhill." He disappeared through the doorway, leaving Olivia to wonder if he was gone. But he reappeared with a pillow and a bundle of sheets in his arms. "Mind putting these away? Can't have anyone finding out I slept on the couch after that little performance you put on last night."

She knew they'd been undercover. She knew they'd gone out to dinner. She knew she'd had too much to drink. But beyond that…blank. Not sure she really wanted to know, she decided she needed to ask. "Care to fill me in on last night?"

His mouth fell open as he stared at her. "Don't tell me you forgot."

For one fleeting second, she could have sworn her heart stopped as she glanced down to see what she was wearing. Oh, thank fucking god. Still the red dress. And then she heard his laughter. She sorely wished she had something to throw at him. "You're an asshole."

"You turned a few heads last night making out with Petya, but besides that, nothing much." His face had turned serious again, and she wondered how much of that had to do with the content of his words.

She winced. "I kissed him?" Peter was not exactly her type. And having drunk enough to kiss a man she wasn't attracted to made her fear what she'd done with her partner.

He shrugged. "Technically, I think he kissed you, but you weren't fighting him off." And then he grinned. "You also invited him to come home with us."

She dropped her face into her hands. "I didn't."

"You did. And loudly too." He smiled as he slipped his wallet into his pants pocket. "Did the trick though, every single person in that restaurant was staring at us. Petya called this morning to invite us to a very exclusive party tonight."

"Fuck no. I'm not drinking tonight."

He snickered. "Good luck with that, you've already made yourself out to be a lush."

"Any other particularly embarrassing things from last night?"

His smile faltered for a second, as if to assure her there was something. But he only shrugged. "Well, you were unconscious at the time, but I did carry you over the threshold."

She wasn't surprised he'd had to carry her. She could barely walk in those ridiculous shoes sober. But she kind of wished she'd been aware when her partner had scooped her up into his strong arms. "That's it, I'm never drinking again."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Glaring at him seemed to have no effect on his smug grin. Switching tactics, she lay back on the bed, well aware that having rolled around in her dress made it even shorter, and smiled back as she watched him work to swallow at the sight of her legs. "I'll see you at work, cupcake."

With a chuckle moved toward the door again. "Your keys are on the kitchen counter."

"My keys?"

"To the car you'll need if you expect to meet me at work later."

God, going undercover was complicated with a hangover. "Ok."

"Bye."

She waved at him as she pulled the pillow back over her face.

It was almost two hours later when she made her way into the precinct. Sarah didn't work and therefore she figured it would look funny for her to run right out after Elliot had left. She felt a little better in a long skirt and sweater than she had in that tiny little dress, but the addition of the convertible beemer in a glaring white earned her the stares of about as many pairs of eyes as the dress had.

She was feeling slightly less hungover when she walked into the bullpen, but her mood immediately soured as soon as she spotted Peter sitting at her desk. There was nothing wrong with the man, but she was quite disappointed in herself, and her cover, in whatever had led her to a place that involved kissing him. In front of her partner, no less.

But it did make her inexplicably happy to see that Elliot was glaring at him.

She dropped her fancy, oversized purse on her desk and stared at Peter. "You're in my chair."

He scrambled for another one. "You were amazing last night." His voice carried way too far in the quiet room, the room that got much quieter after he spoke.

Before she had the chance to answer, Elliot was out of his seat, lifting Peter by the collar. She knew she should step in, except she kind of wanted to Elliot to punch the jerk for embarrassing her.

"You stay the hell away from my partner!" The anger, which Olivia had to admit was subdued considering that he hadn't actually hit the man, reminded her of a memory that was just surfacing, a mere flash of Elliot's face across the restaurant, eyes hot with anger.

That must have been when she'd kissed Peter, she realized. And he'd been waiting twelve hours to have a reason to hit him over it.

Irritated, and quite pleased that Fin stepped in to break it up instead of waiting for her to, Olivia dropped into her seat and shook her head. Yes, it was hopelessly endearing to her when Elliot tried to defend her honor. She only wished that he could do so privately, or at least in a way that didn't make it look like she was sleeping with him instead. She looked at the half eaten pastry Peter had left on her blotter and pushed it away with a groan.

Munch offered her a smile and a raised eyebrow from across the aisle. "Too much wine with dinner, Liv?"

She shook her head and grinned at him. "Too much testosterone with breakfast."

Cragen popped out of his office, beckoning them with a crooked finger. "Bring me up to speed, people."

Quite certain she was about to get busted for being drunk on the job, Olivia stood up and followed the two glowering members of her operation into Cragen's office.


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

_After_

_ He swallowed hard, reminding himself that as much as he wanted to touch her, it was a horrible idea. Even worse than telling her the truth. "I just wanted to check on you. See how you're doing."_

_ "Bullshit." She glared at him. "I know when you're lying, Elliot. That hasn't changed."_

_ "Everything else has." He didn't know why he said it. It wasn't like either one of them didn't already know._

_ She looked away, hurt replacing the anger on her face. "You should go."_

_ And suddenly, despite having heard the one thing that would have made it ok to leave, he was glued to the couch. "What the hell, Liv? What is your problem?"_

_ Her face was the picture of utter shock, as though it should have been painfully obvious. "You didn't ask for my permission, Elliot. You just went ahead and made a huge decision for me without discussing it with me first."_

_ "What?" It was his turn to be shocked, because of all the things she could have been pissed at him over, the one she picked had never once entered his mind._

_ "I had no say, Elliot! You forced your choice on me. How did you expect me to react?"_

_ He wanted to laugh at the absurdity. "You were unconscious."_

_ "So? That means I don't have a say? Did it occur to you that I might have an opinion of my own?"_

_ "Would you have rather died? Cause that was the other option." He couldn't believe it. Just couldn't wrap his head around it. _

_ Her chin trembled. "It doesn't matter. I still feel violated."_

Before

Olivia spent half the day catching up on paperwork which she was sure the captain would appreciate. Elliot did the same. It was too dangerous for them to work the rest of their cases while they were undercover. Their active cases, besides the three girls, had been reassigned throughout the rest of the overworked squad.

She caught their unhappy glares but she didn't feel guilty. Not only had she more than done her part over the years, but she was also in the midst of a dangerous undercover assignment with the Russian mob. Not exactly the sort of thing anyone had the right to be jealous of.

"You should probably head out, Liv."

She looked up, confused momentarily since she and her partner usually burned the midnight oil at their desks. But Sarah didn't. Smiling, she met Elliot's eyes. "Any requests for dinner, darling?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're going to cook for me?"

"No, but I thought I'd ask anyway." She snickered at his disappointment.

"I'll leave here in about an hour. See you at home, honey." His shit-eating grin told her that he was getting a kick out of the gig too.

Probably not as big a one as she was getting though, since he had a spouse to go home to every night. Briefly, she wondered how Kathy was taking the news about her husband's new wife, however temporary it might be. Knowing Elliot's tendency to not tell the truth when it might get him in trouble, she wondered if Kathy knew at all. But she didn't dwell on it long.

Normally, Olivia hated leaving work. She loved her job, found a lot of satisfaction in doing it well. There was more to it though, she knew, because she missed the company when she was at home. Not just her partner, her friends too. Her entire identity was tied up in her career as were most of her relationships. Being at home was lonely.

So it made her smile as she climbed into her borrowed car, knowing that she wouldn't be home alone that night. And not just not alone, but with her first choice of companion on any given day, if she were being honest with herself.

Armed with a slew of Gucci and Prada and Coach shopping bags loaned to her in case someone was watching, she let herself into her new house. The bags were abandoned by the front door, as were her shoes. She'd been too hungover that morning to do more than fold the sheets at Elliot's request. She hadn't had an opportunity to look around the house. Starting with the living room, she checked everything out - the high-end furnishings, the tastefully expensive art decorating the walls.

But the thing that caught her eye was the collection of "family" portraits adorning the mantle, the end tables, the hallway to the bedroom. After so many years, she knew there were bound to be photographs of her and Elliot. And while Ellis had asked her and Elliot for any shots they had, and while she'd heard the captain asking the rest of their unit to fork over any pictures they might have, and while she knew there were certainly several photoshopped concoctions, like their wedding photos, Olivia was truly amazed at the pictures. She really couldn't tell how many were faked besides the obvious. It was strange to see how happy they looked together in the ones she knew were real.

A quite disturbing thought occurred to her, one that scared her, made her think about gathering the pictures and throwing them in the beautiful marble fireplace.

She wanted to keep them. Take them home. Hang them on her walls.

Pretend that it was real.

So shaken by the thoughts in her head, she was honestly surprised to still be there when Elliot came in from work. She could have run and she would have. Except she thought of the girls being tortured and the real couples who thought they had the right to keep a young girl prisoner just because they could afford to. And so she stayed, despite her instincts screaming at her to run for her life.

If he noticed anything was off with her, he pretended not to. Instead he threw his suit coat on the bags she'd dropped by the door. His tie wound up draped over the chair. His shoes dropped over the arm rest of the couch as he flopped down and kicked up his feet. He managed to half unbutton his shirt with one hand while he operated the remote with the other.

Olivia snickered at him, at his level of comfort, at his utter maleness. "I hope you're not expecting me to pick up after you."

He lifted his head to look at her, but she realized a moment later he'd only lifted his head to shove a throw pillow under it. Eventually he seemed to realize he should acknowledge her. "Petya called. Gave me the address for the party, said to be there at eight."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Nice. We work all day and now we work all night too."

"You weren't working too hard last night."

Scoffing at her make believe husband, she sat down in the chair adjacent to the sofa. "I had to kiss him last night. That was work. I deserve hazard pay for that."

He smirked in her direction for a moment before his eyes locked back on the giant TV screen. "That nap you took on my shoulder really wore you out, huh?"

Thankful he wasn't looking, but aware he knew she was blushing anyway, she tried to pretend it wasn't out of the ordinary, that it didn't bother her. "It's not my fault you got me drunk." And then she grinned at him. "And it's not my fault you smell so damn good either."

To avoid a repeat of the night before, Olivia made sure to eat dinner before she left the house. Elliot had reminded her several times that they were going to a dinner party, but she ignored him, deciding that Sarah would declare that she was on a diet if anyone questioned her lack of appetite. She didn't want to take the chance that dinner would be something disgusting that she wouldn't be able to eat. She'd barely touched dinner the night before and had paid the price with getting drunk even faster than she'd expected.

Once she was finished with the bowl of pasta, she headed into the bedroom to change. Elliot was already dressed, his expensive suit somehow making him even more ridiculously attractive than normal, even while he glanced at his watch and warned her the car was leaving in thirty minutes, whether she was in it or not.

To guarantee that the drooling over her partner wouldn't be entirely one sided, Olivia carefully picked through her loaned closet. She needed just the perfect dress, one chosen specifically to make Elliot crazy, and yet not one that was too blatantly picked to get his attention. She found just the one in a dark blue, slightly shiny fabric. It was full length and slightly fitted. The high neck and long sleeves made it seem almost prudish at first glance, except the back dropped sharply from the shoulders, curved forward around her sides and waist, carved out to completely expose her back, so far down as to be nearly inappropriate for public wear.

And poor Elliot would have no idea until he put his hand to her back the way he always did. She smirked at herself in the mirror as she pinned up her hair and put in her earrings. A touch of eye liner, some lip gloss, and another pair of really silly shoes finished her off.

She made it back to the living room in twenty-seven minutes, raising her eyebrow at Elliot's shocked, yet appreciative expression. She smiled, loving that he was checking her out, feeling almost guilty because he was clearly relieved she wasn't showing as much skin as she had the night before.

Pulling her wrap around her back and shoulders to keep the secret a bit longer, Olivia grabbed her clutch and followed Elliot out the door.

They pulled up to the enormous mansion a few minutes before eight. Olivia turned to glance at Elliot, taking in his shell-shocked expression.

"You sure this is the place?"

Elliot glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. "I'm not sure this isn't an airport."

Two men in black suits opened both of their doors without warning, each offering a hand to help them out, revealing the guns they carried as they did so. The one helping Elliot spoke gruffly. "Your names please?"

"Edward and Sarah Grant. We're expected."

The man nodded, waving his arm for Elliot to go ahead. Unnerved that there were armed guards to stop them in case they needed to cut and run, Olivia's hand gripped Elliot's proffered arm, her nails digging into the fabric of his jacket.

Two more men, undoubtedly armed as well, met them at the front door, taking their names and patting them down.

Out of Sarah's sense of propriety, Olivia yelped quite convincingly when the man put his hands on her.

Out of Edward's concern for his wife, he jumped at the guy. "Hey! Hands off my wife, pal!"

Abandoning Olivia to check Elliot instead, they closed in around him. "Your hosts are cautious people."

Elliot let them pat him down with a scowl on his face, also quite convincingly, in Olivia's mind at least, irritated that his honor was being questioned. He straightened his jacket as though it had been ruined by their unworthy hands. "Are we done here?"

The man who'd done the patting nodded at the other, who spoke. "Right this way."

He led them down a long hallway and through a giant set of double doors, so ornate that Olivia thought they might have belonged in a castle. Of course, the house was so enormous that it resembled a castle, so it made sense.

As he stepped through the doors, the man spoke, announcing their arrival to the twenty or so guests in the room as though they too were royalty simply by being allowed entrance. "Edward and Sarah Grant."

Olivia plastered a smile on her face as though she were used to such treatment, handing her wrap and clutch to the maid on her left. She turned to Elliot, watching his face carefully as his arm moved toward her, his hand nearing the skin of her back. The movement was so ingrained, so natural, that he didn't even need to look as he moved, knowing exactly where the small of her back would be.

She felt his warm hand press against her bare skin for all of a millisecond before he realized something was very different. He turned to her, his eyes widening as his mouth dropped open the slightest bit. She grinned contentedly at him, stepping forward slightly to allow him to see the full back of the dress. He caught up with her quickly, trying to pretend not to be thrown by her attire.

But he swallowed so hard Olivia could hear it.


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

_After_

_ He was quiet for a long time, realizing that the one decision he'd made in his entire life that he was absolutely convinced was right was the one his partner disagreed with the most. Eventually, he looked at her, unashamed of the tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm sorry you're hurt, Liv, but I'm not sorry I did it."_

_ She turned away, shaking her head, furious as ever. "You don't think you did anything wrong."_

_ "Because I didn't." He hadn't. He was sure of it. She was alive. Maybe not well, but she was alive. And that was all that mattered to him._

_ "Then you might as well leave because until you understand that I see it differently, I've got nothing to say to you."_

_ "Olivia." His voice cracked on her name and he saw the way her resolve faltered. "What would you have done?"_

_ She turned back to him, avoiding his eyes. "About what?"_

_ "If it had been the other way around. If it had been my life on the line and saving it was up to you."_

_ It took her a long time to answer, her face crumbling as she bit her lip to fight the tears. But finally, she looked him in the eyes. "I would have done the same damn thing."_

Before

They hadn't been there five minutes before a couple approached them. At least, she assumed they were a couple, although they hardly acted like one. The man, who introduced himself as Robert, wrapped his arm around Olivia's waist and pulled her from Elliot's side. While Robert was torturing Olivia, his wife Rachel was attaching herself to Elliot.

Sarah would love it, Olivia reminded herself. Edward would probably get off on watching her with another man. They'd already established that the previous night. And as much as Olivia was particularly uninterested in watching Rachel rub herself all over Elliot, she accepted that Sarah would get a kick out of it.

Holding Elliot's eyes, she plastered a fake smile on her face as Robert's hand roamed over her exposed back. She could see a flash of anger in his eyes that he tried to hide by smiling at Rachel.

The whole group was called into dinner, shown to their pre-arranged places. Olivia was unhappily situated between Robert and another man she didn't know at all while Elliot and Rachel were further down the row. Keith joined Robert in asking her no end of questions and on the few occasions she could crane her neck far enough to see her partner, it appeared that Rachel and another woman were doing the same to Elliot. Olivia felt like she was being interrogated, and it made her nervous. They had a basic cover in place and they knew how to read one another well enough to keep a brand new story going between them. Unfortunately, with no access to Elliot, Olivia had to guess what he might say. She crossed her fingers and hoped they were coming up with the same stories.

By dessert, Olivia was ready to leave. Even if she hadn't felt like she was being questioned, the excessive amount of attention Robert and Keith were paying to her every move was starting to make her nuts. They kept trying to get her to drink more, faster, and eat more too. She politely refused, explaining that she was on a diet and needed to watch how much she drank, all the while trying to send Elliot telekinetic messages to get her out of there.

But when she saw the fake smile on his face aimed at Rachel and her cohort, she knew he was in the same boat.

She almost cheered when the table was cleared, allowing the group to stand up and reconfigure itself. She almost ran to Elliot's side, fearing that one more attempt by one of the men to pick her up would result in her kicking the crap out of them and ruining their ruse.

Robert and Rachel joined them, paying no mind to their new friends' attempts to brush them off. Rachel sidled up to Olivia, stroking her hand along Olivia's arm, watching with wide eyes for Elliot's reaction. Trying not to be annoyed with Elliot for not having to fake being turned on, Olivia returned Rachel's seductive smile. Robert was just as interested, and leaned in to put his hand on Olivia's ass.

"Rachel and I are about to leave for Italy for a few months, but we'd love to hook up sometime."

Olivia, pretending to be busy engaging both Robert and Rachel simultaneously, left the response to Elliot. "We'll be looking forward to your homecoming."

But Rachel wasn't about to let the date be postponed into the uncertain future. "What about tomorrow evening? We're leaving first thing Friday morning, but we have tomorrow night free."

Olivia fought the urge to shove the other woman's hand from her shoulder. "Oh, Rachel, I'm so sorry, but we already have plans."

Robert looked to Elliot, perhaps to verify her statement. "Something you can put off?"

Elliot shook his head sadly, although Olivia figured the sick expression on his face probably had more to do with the way Robert was rubbing his arm than with what he was saying. "A friend of Sarah's is flying in to see her and she's already planned her trip." He forced a smile at Robert, though it was obvious to Olivia that it was taking everything he had in him to do it. "Don't forget to give us a call when you get back in town."

Disappointed, Rachel's face and hands immediately fell. With a frown, Robert led her away to speak with another couple, apparently only interested in someone available in the near future.

Olivia felt that they'd done their fair share of mingling and was about to suggest they make their excuses when a familiar face appeared in front of her.

"Sarah! Edward! I'm so glad you were able to join us tonight!" Petya's fake exuberance was over the top and Olivia wondered how he hadn't been made already.

But she said nothing as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Petya! Thank you so much for inviting us to this wonderful party!"

Elliot nearly grimaced as he accepted Peter's hug. "Yes, we've met some great new friends." Olivia bit back the snicker at the idea that Elliot was likely to go after Peter in the squad room again in the morning.

"How would you like to meet your gracious hosts for this evening?" Peter's voice and face looked happy enough, but Olivia could have sworn there was a note of warning in both.

She glanced at Elliot to check if he was picking up on it too, and found his worried eyes on her. She offered him the tiniest shrug she could before she smiled widely at Peter. "We'd love to thank them in person! Dinner was delicious!"

Olivia and Elliot followed Peter away from the party, down another long hallway, through a convoluted series of turns, and finally through another door that led to an office. There was a group of people there, seemingly waiting for them, sizing them up. A few were familiar, and Olivia figured she'd seen them in the restaurant.

A woman in her sixties stepped around the desk, striding toward them as fast as her tiny legs would carry her. Her face was hard, angry, full of lines, her dark eyes unfriendly, her red-painted lips pressed together tightly in a frown; her petite frame was buttoned up in a skirt and blazer. Even in her high heels, she barely reached Olivia's shoulders and yet, the woman demanded respect. She studied Olivia and Elliot, taking a long, hard look at each of them before stepping back.

Her face turned to Peter. "These are your friends, Petya?" Her accent was so thick Olivia strained to make out her words. "You invited them to my home?"

Peter looked at them, his face giving nothing away. He offered her a single nod, more resembling a bow. "Yes, Valentina, these are my friends. I think you will like them."

Valentina stared at Peter for another long moment before she turned back to Olivia and Elliot. "You are married?" Barely waiting for their nods of agreement, she continued. "You do not look like you are married."

Elliot scoffed. "What, lady, you want to see our marriage license?"

Olivia noticed how all the men in the room seemed to tense, more than one reaching for the bulges in their jackets. Frightened that the woman would kill them all before they got anywhere, she reached for Elliot's arm.

"Edward, stop it, you're being rude." She glared at him, as though he were embarrassing her. Then she stepped forward, extending her hand to Valentina. "Hello, I'm Sarah Grant." The older woman made no move to take her hand and finally, Olivia let it drop back to her side. "Thank you so much for inviting us to your party this evening. We had a wonderful time. Your home is-"

Valentina stopped the gushing bullshit with a raised hand. "I know who you are." She thrust her chin forward and a man joined her, matching her in age and angry features. "I am Valentina. This is my husband, Eugeny."

Unsure if they were being welcomed or introduced to the man who would order their execution, Olivia smiled and glanced uncertainly at Elliot.

Elliot smiled and managed a curt nod at the pair. "Thank you for inviting us."

Eugeny frowned. "Petya invited you."

Elliot reached out, taking Olivia's hand and squeezing it. She feared it was a bad sign, thinking that maybe he too suspected they'd be leaving the mansion in body bags and wanting the comfort of a friendly touch beforehand.

At Valentina's urging, Eugeny stooped down, listening intently to his wife's whisper. When he stood straight again, he looked at Olivia and Elliot and then shrugged at Valentina before he left the room without another comment. Half of the men followed him, leaving Valentina with enough guards to ensure there would be no trouble.

With a smirk on her face, she dismissed Peter. And then she turned back to Olivia. "You would share your husband with others?"

Trying her best to appear irritated, she looked down her nose at her. "When I approve of them."

Her hard eyes turned to Elliot. "And you would allow another man to be with your wife?"

Elliot's eyes darted to Olivia and then he grinned at Valentina. "Man, woman," he chuckled. "I like to watch."

Valentina appeared to consider their words as she stared at them. "I would see you kiss."

Alarm bells started ringing in Olivia's head. She had to get out of there before something happened, before Elliot was forced to kiss her, before he realized in that kiss that she felt something entirely unlike friendship for him. She took a step back, picking up Sarah's holier-than-thou attitude. "No offense, Valentina, but you're really not our type."

Elliot's head snapped toward her, as though he'd expected her to offer no argument. He laughed, his face and voice taking on Edward's obnoxious traits. "Come on, Sarah, what's the problem?" He reached out, taking her elbow, trying to pull her closer. "Come here, baby."

She yanked her arm away. "I'm not kissing you just because she said to."

Elliot's eyes drifted from hers, widening ever so slightly, giving her warning that something behind her was not good. "You'll kiss me if I tell you to." He held her eyes, trying to convey something to her.

But the subtext was lost on her, because his words scared her. She couldn't kiss him. She couldn't. It was a very bad idea. And she was more than a little annoyed that he was so damn gung ho on the issue.

She glared at him, at Valentina, then at him again. "I'll do no such thing." She turned for the door, taking two steps before turning back, sighing in annoyance at her husband. "Are you coming, Edward?"

He was pissed off. Not just Edward, but Elliot. Because he thought she was putting their lives in jeopardy. Because, perhaps, he thought she was refusing to kiss him for an entirely different reason. His hand closed around her upper arm, holding her still as he moved in, his other hand gripping the back of her neck. "I said, come here."

Trying to play the irritated wife was harder with his body pressing against hers, but she tried anyway. "Let me go!"

He grinned at her, finding amusement where there wasn't any to be had. "Shut up."

She opened her mouth to object, but any protest she might have made was lost as his mouth covered hers. Her body continued to fight, her hands pressing against his chest, her head fighting his hold, her lips trying to close.

But he was determined and she was far more willing than she wanted to let on. In no time at all, the initial bruising pressure of his mouth lightened up, his lips beginning to caress hers, his tongue giving her no warning at all before plunging into her mouth. And then her hands weren't fighting him, they were pulling him, tugging at his shirt, then sliding up around his shoulders. His hands released their grip on her, moving to her bare back, his fingers dancing across her skin, slipping under the edges of her dress.

The rest of the world slipped away. There was only her and him and their lips and tongues and the honesty between them. She was moaning, unable to suppress it, as she felt his body reacting to her proximity. At least that wasn't fake, she promised herself, even if the kiss was.

Finally, far too soon, he pulled back, licking his lips as he held her eyes, his pupils wide and dazed. She wondered if maybe he'd been drugged, if maybe someone had slipped something in his wine. She couldn't believe that the kiss had affected him so much, though she recognized that she probably looked much the same.

But he seemed fine as he stepped to the side, pulling her against him, his hand at her waist, his thumb sliding just under the edge of her dress. "So, we pass your little test?"

Valentina was smiling, quite content with herself. "You may go."

Stunned, Olivia could only smile vaguely in Valentina's direction as Elliot pulled her from the room. He was clearly better off than she was as he found their way to the front door, collecting her wrap, and asking for their car. While they were waiting for the car, he draped the wrap around her shoulders, following it with his arm, rubbing his hand over her arm as though the temperature had anything to do with why she was shaking.

"You ok?"

She couldn't look at him, not without revealing something she didn't want him to know. Nodding, she tried to make herself sound normal. "Yeah, I'm fine."

But she wasn't fine. She'd never be fine. Not when she knew what it was like to kiss the man and still couldn't have him.


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

_After_

_ Since they were laying their cards on the table, he went for it. "You called me Edward that night."_

_ Her eyes snapped to his, as though she truly hadn't been expecting his words. "What night?"_

_ He watched as she searched her memory, thinking about all the nights, trying to pick the one to which he'd referred. As he expected, she came up with it quickly. It had been too pivotal for her not to remember every detail the same as him._

_ Utter annoyance settled onto her features. "Like that fucking matters now."_

_ "It matters to me." And it did. That she'd chosen to look him in the eye and call him by another name, that she'd willfully rejected what he'd been trying to tell her, it mattered. It fucking hurt._

_ "Is that why you came here?" Her voice was soft once again, a look of sheer exhaustion crossing her face._

_ Once again, he felt terribly guilty. He'd gotten off so easy. He made the mistake of going there. She shouldn't have to play guessing games with him too. He shook his head. "No. You're right it doesn't matter." _

_ Glancing at her watch again, she shifted to the edge of the couch and took a moment to gather her strength before trying to stand. "I have an appointment. I need to go."_

_ She was done. That was all he was going to get._

Before

The silence in the car was thick and choking. Olivia wasn't about to break it. Hell, she couldn't even look at her partner. And she knew he wasn't looking at her. They needed some distance. They needed away from each other. The one thing they couldn't have.

She needed time to build the wall Elliot's kiss had broken down. She needed time to get it through her head that Edward had kissed Sarah. Elliot and Olivia hadn't been in that room. And if they had been, any kissing had certainly only been done to keep them both alive. She just needed a few minutes to pull herself together and convince herself that she'd only been acting.

But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she reminded herself that Elliot had been faking the passion behind that kiss, she couldn't convince herself she'd felt nothing. Because the truth was she'd wanted to kiss Elliot for so fucking long she couldn't even remember a time when she didn't want to kiss Elliot.

And she strongly suspected that his half of the awkward silence came from the fact that he knew that. He had to have realized it when she practically melted in his arms. He was probably horrified. He was probably offended too, his wife undoubtedly in the forefront of his mind.

By the time he pulled the car in front of their house, Olivia was ready to bury her face in her hands. She'd never been so embarrassed in her life. She jumped out of the car as soon as he hit the brakes, giving her a bit of a head start. Of course, she was trying to run in heels and he wasn't.

He caught her arm, spinning her around before she made it to the front steps. "Jesus, Ol-" He caught himself just in time, his face full of panic at his slip. After a quick check that no one was around, he continued in a hushed voice. "Will you wait a minute?"

Her eyes widened in horror, feeling completely unprepared to face him, especially outside where prying eyes might be watching, where she couldn't flat refuse to talk to him about it. Space was of the utmost importance just then. Time too. She needed more of both before she made a total fool of herself.

She opened her mouth and said the first thing that came her to mind in an attempt to get herself away from the situation. "I'm cold." Pulling her arm away, she raced for the door.

He was hot on her heels when she got inside, barely getting the door closed behind him when he reached for her again. His hold wasn't soft, his tug wasn't gentle. He just grabbed her arm and wrenched her around to face him. Without sensible shoes or any advanced warning, Olivia lost her balance and toppled into his chest, allowing him to snake his arm around her waist.

He glared at her, as angry as she was mortified, holding her eyes while his other hand found its way into her hair. "I want to get one thing straight right now, Olivia."

Before she could summon up the anger to yell at him for manhandling her, she realized what was going on.

And then she couldn't summon up any anger at all.

His mouth was on hers again, this time, without a command, without an audience, without any pretense. He was kissing her. His mouth was pressed against hers, open, hot, demanding, his tongue tracing her lips, fanning the flames already burning in her. She opened her mouth at his command, if only because she needed more air, but as soon as his tongue slipped inside, she decided she didn't need to breathe anymore. She needed to be there, kissing her partner, feeling his hands on her bare back, forever.

His hands didn't stay on her back for long. They didn't stay anywhere for long. They kept moving, dancing over her body, feeling as much of her as he could reach. She loved the feeling, the idea as unbelievably overwhelming as the physical sensations. She'd felt his body's reaction to their first kiss. She could feel it again, his dick responding to the pressure of her body as she squirmed against him.

His hands moved to her shoulders, pulling at the fabric of her dress. Leaning back, he grinned at her. "Does this thing have a zipper?"

It sounded funny. Maybe because her partner was asking how to undress her. Maybe because he was so sure. Maybe because he didn't seem to have any second thoughts.

Fuck, she was having second thoughts and she wasn't even the married one.

The thought hit her like a bucket of ice cold water.

She shoved him away, knowing her face told him something was very wrong.

While he understood something had changed, he didn't seem to understand that it had anything to do with him. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" She was single, after all. If she wanted to make an irresponsible decision and sleep with someone and regret it in the morning, that was up to her. She didn't drone on about being Catholic and faithful and having a family. Suddenly, she wanted to slap him for having the nerve to start something they both knew they couldn't finish.

He'd known from her kiss, he must have, that she wanted him. He'd known she wanted him and he got all worked up thinking he would get a little in-character fuck on the side and he was mad that she'd changed her mind.

She shoved at him again, wishing she wasn't too angry to speak.

"Olivia-" 

"Don't." She turned, heading for the bedroom, thankful that some of her dignity was still intact. He hadn't undressed her. He hadn't gotten too far for her to walk away with her head up.

"Wait!" He reached for her again, his touch much lighter. Much easier for her to pull her arm away from. But when she did, he pushed in front of her, his hands reaching for her face, trying to move in to kiss her again.

Jerking away harder that time, she got to the bedroom door. For a brief moment, she looked him in the eye so he would know better than to knock. "I'm not in the mood, Edward." She slammed the door in his face before he could see her tears.

Olivia was up at the crack of dawn. Feeling stupider than fuck, she made her way toward the kitchen. She stopped at the end of the hallway, as soon as she spied her partner, asleep on the rock hard sofa. He hadn't had the luxury of a blanket or pillow since the extras had been in the bedroom, which he probably had known she wouldn't have let him into if he'd asked.

She felt bad. Guilty. If she'd kept her emotions in check, if she'd been able to remember that they were playing a part, she wouldn't have reacted to his kiss the way she had and then he wouldn't have gotten turned on and thus he wouldn't have tried to finish things off. It was all her fault. She'd lost control. She had no right to take it out on him.

Hanging her head, she continued into the kitchen to start up the coffee maker. She put in some bread to toast, and then in a rare occurrence, she felt like making an omelet. The OCCB crew had been thorough, stocking the pantry and fridge for them, so Olivia figured she might as well make some use of the state of the art kitchen before the op was over and everything got trashed.

The coffee was finished as she slid her omelet onto the plate. She was reaching into the cabinet for a mug when she heard Elliot shuffle into the kitchen.

"Grab one for me?" His voice was soft, uncertain.

Guilt about strangled her when she turned to face him. He was on the far side of the island, his eyes downcast, looking like he expected to get blasted. She felt horrible for making him feel like that. "Hungry?"

He looked up, surprised that she was asking. "You're cooking?"

"The pan's still hot." She shrugged, feeling like making him breakfast was the least she could do.

They ate quietly, sipping their coffee, paging through the newspaper. Oddly enough, it was one of the most relaxing mornings Olivia could recall ever having. But she couldn't let it go, not until she was sure things were as peaceful as they seemed.

Holding her mug in both hands, she took a deep breath. "Are we ok here?" After a pause, she chanced a look at his face.

He was watching her, still looking like he was waiting for a reprimand of some sort. Finally, he swallowed and ducked his head. "I'm sorry. Really." He peeked at her and immediately looked back at his plate. "I guess I had too much to drink last night. I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

Her stomach rolled over, making her seriously regret having eaten. He was sorry. And with the way he'd taken to twisting his wedding ring around on his finger, she knew he meant it. It made her feel even worse. She hadn't considered that he might have had too much to drink, but then again, she hadn't been seated near him at dinner. She had no idea how much he'd had, but when she thought about it, it made sense. Elliot had never made a move on her in all the years they were partners. He'd never really seemed like the type to cheat or enjoy a quick fuck his wife would never learn about. It also cleared up his reaction to her – she'd turned him on with that first kiss and he'd been drunk, so it hadn't taken much. And he'd simply expected that she would follow through when they got home.

Feeling lower than dirt, Olivia dropped the plates into the dishwasher. "Look, El, we both made a mistake. But it's over and nothing actually happened, so let's just forget about it."

"I'm going to take a shower and head to work."

Olivia swallowed hard and realized she should have apologized. Of course he was accepting the blame, even though it was her fault. He'd expected that she would step up, at least shoulder the blame with him if she didn't take it all on herself. The only thing she had to console herself with was the fact that they'd given themselves the night off.

They needed it – a night without having to hang all over one another – if they were going to survive the op intact.


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

_After_

_ He reached for her, his hands automatically helping her, regardless of how very futile attempting to help her ever was. She shoved him away, choosing to wince in pain as she managed to get herself to her feet._

_ "Is there something else?" She was mad, but Elliot honestly couldn't tell if it was because he was there or because she'd allowed him to see that she was hurting._

_ He shook his head, backing toward the door. "Can I drive you?"_

_ She froze as she was picking up her sweatshirt. "You want to drive me to the doctor?"_

_ "Yeah, I do."_

_ "I have to go to the lab too."_

_ He smiled, recognizing that she was trying to warn him without telling him to fuck off. Because he knew she had no qualms with telling him that in no uncertain terms. "Ok."_

_ She fought a smile and when it broke through anyway, she looked at the ground. "And I should really stop at the grocery store."_

_ "Got any library books you want to return?"_

_ "And if I say yes?"_

_ "Still ok." He stepped up to her, his hand going to her back for a moment before dropping to his side. _

_ She glanced at him for a long time, waited for him to change his mind. He didn't. Finally she shrugged. "Whatever."_

Before

Loathe to give up actual space between them, Olivia waited a long time before showing up at the precinct. They had cleared the air, sort of, but she couldn't look at the man without remembering the taste of his lips, the intensity of his eyes when he'd moved in to kiss her. And in all honesty, she wasn't a bit convinced that too much wine had caused his behavior. Sure, it was easier to believe her partner had hit on her because he was drunk, but she didn't believe it.

Because he hadn't acted the least bit intoxicated.

Unfortunately sitting alone in the house wasn't going to stop her from thinking about the whole mess. She decided to go to work, knowing that despite her partner's presence, typing up reports about vicious attacks and ruined lives would keep her mind from reliving those moments when Elliot had been kissing her.

Instead of finding Peter in her chair, Olivia's eyes fell on a woman she had to admit was positively stunning. She didn't like it one bit, especially not the incredible wave of jealousy that crashed over her when she saw the way Elliot was grinning at the blonde.

She forced back her territorial snarl when the woman's smile fell on her. Forcing herself to be civil, she smiled. "Can I help you?"

Elliot answered for her, telling her that all the time she'd been avoiding him, he'd been getting to know a new friend. "Don't you recognize your best friend?"

Olivia glanced at the woman again, looking for anything even remotely familiar. "Do I know you?"

The blonde stood and extended her hand. "I'm Kristen, Sarah's friend."

Relaxing a bit, Olivia's smile became real. "Peter sent you."

Elliot nodded, insisting on making it obvious that he'd been chatting with Kristen for a while. "Apparently word spreads fast over there. When he heard we had plans tonight he thought we should be covered in case someone's watching."

Olivia found the perfect excuse to stay away from her partner and work her cover at the same time. "We'll see you at home later, honey."

Dismayed at the idea of losing his eye candy, Elliot glanced between the two women. "Where are you going?"

Kristen stood up, grabbing the overnight bag she'd brought as part of her story. "I have no idea, but I bet it's more fun than here."

"We're going where Sarah and Kristen would."

Spending the day, and someone else's money, getting her hair and nails done, as well as the accompanying massage, was exactly what Olivia needed. She got to know Kristen a bit also, and by the end of the day she didn't mind having a new friend.

By the time Elliot got home, they were sprawled across the sofa like old buddies. The coffee table was littered with popcorn, half eaten sandwiches, and a jar of peanut butter with a spoon sticking out of it. The woman were transfixed by the television, so much so that neither one looked up at Elliot's arrival.

Elliot grinned as he looked at the show, some reality program that his youngest daughter raved about when he was home early enough that she was still awake. He leaned over the back of the couch, between the two women, amazed at how mesmerized Olivia appeared. "Honey, I'm home."

Olivia nodded, holding up her hand to stop him from speaking again.

When the show switched to commercial, she finally turned to her partner. "This is, hands down, the most fascinating thing I've ever seen."

Elliot joined them on the oversized couch, picking up Olivia's discarded sandwich and munching on it. After several minutes of watching the twenty-somethings on the show, he looked at his partner once again. "You don't watch much TV, do you?"

"About as much as you." She was lucky if she caught the news on a weekly basis. She watched his gaze shift from her face, which was a little close for her comfort, toward her toes.

She wiggled her cheap foam shoes, provided free-of-charge with her pedicure, showing off her pretty pink toes that matched her pretty pink fingers. "I got a massage too."

He laughed as he glanced back at her. "And a haircut." In a completely uncharacteristic move, his fingers reached out, brushing back the hair from her face. "It's nice." His arm dropped to the cushions between them, almost brushing against hers. "I assume OCCB is picking up the tab?" He leaned closer, enough that his shoulder pressed into hers.

"You didn't think I was, did you?" She swallowed hard, trying to figure out how he was going to blame his behavior on alcohol, wishing she had some for herself.

"Uh, should I go in the other room?" Kristen's voice came as more of a shock to Olivia than Elliot's had.

Blushing, and knowing the blush made her look far guiltier than she had any right to be, she looked at the other woman. "What?"

Kristen rolled her eyes. "Uh huh."

Quietly, all three turned their eyes back to the television.

The next three days were the most relaxing Olivia had had in years. Relaxing, watching TV, pigging out on whatever anyone happened to bring into the room, joking about the nonsense they were watching. It was fantastic. She was comfortable, among friends, and not working, at least not every minute, a situation she rarely experienced.

In an effort to keep up the appearance, they all went out for dinner the third night. Despite her years working undercover, Kristen still got a kick out of getting all dressed up. She spent hours picking out a dress and makeup while Olivia laughed.

The blonde looked at her in the vanity mirror, where she was applying her eye shadow under a halo of large foam rollers. "What? Don't tell me you're not trying to impress someone!"

Olivia rolled her eyes, still dressed in her clothes from work. "He's married." Kristen's passive-aggressive matchmaking attempts were good natured and thus amusing rather than embarrassing.

"To you, I believe."

Checking her watch, Olivia stood up and started looking through the closet. "No, to his wife of twenty odd years." Selecting a knee-length black dress with spaghetti straps, she turned to catch Kristen's eye. "You're partner, on the other hand…" She grinned, quite happily turning the conversation away. She wasn't at all attracted to Peter, which made it a much safer topic.

Peter had given them a list of businesses owned or managed by Eugeny and Valentina Simonovich. They figured having taken a few nights off, it would be fine for them to pop back up on the radar, especially with Kristen there. Kristen was attractive enough to garner attention on a regular day, but with the addition of extra makeup and a tiny bright purple dress, Olivia was certain no one would miss her.

With Kristen's help, Olivia pinned up her hair, put on far too much makeup, and donned an entirely excessive amount of expensive baubles. Tottering in their heels, they made their way to the living room where Elliot had been waiting, complaining the entire time about missing their reservations.

"Thank God, I thought you guys-" His words simply stopped as he stared unabashedly at them.

At Olivia, really. She wasn't sure how he'd missed Kristen's high-class hooker get up, but Elliot's eyes were locked on her own face. Feeling uncomfortable and unexpectedly nervous, Olivia tugged at the hem of her dress. It wasn't quite knee length and she really wished she'd thought better of it.

Just when she finally decided she needed to go wash off her overdone makeup, Kristen dragged her forward, elbowing Elliot as they passed. "Trying to catch flies there?"

By the time they made it to the car, Olivia had decided she needed a good stiff drink.

Having shared a few bottles of pricey wine, the trio was feeling pretty good when they arrived back at the house that night. As much as Olivia enjoyed Kristen's company, she was glad it was Kristen's last night with them. It was hard to spend so much time with someone she barely knew. Of course, it was hard to spend so much time with someone she knew very well also.

They hadn't been home for five minutes when there was a knock at the door. The three looked at each other, as though one of them might have a clue who was there. Olivia and Kristen sat down on the couch, picking up abandoned glasses from the previous night. Elliot opened the door slowly, as though that might help.

The mirrors above the fireplace and next to the door allowed Olivia to see the visitor. The open door revealed a young woman, makeup slathered on as if to hide her unattractive features, her ample chest overflowing from the bustier she wore with the smallest pair of hot pants Olivia had ever seen.

Elliot glanced at Olivia, who shrugged at him. "Can I help you?"

The woman looked nervously over her shoulder before she spoke. "I am Katya. Eugeny sent me."

Elliot smiled, motioning behind him where Katya couldn't see. "I'm sorry; Katya, but Sarah and I are already entertaining tonight." He smiled apologetically at her. "Perhaps another night."

Katya peered over her shoulder again with a frown. "Are you sure?"

As Elliot swung the door open, Kristen took the initiative, her timing absolutely perfect, so that when both Elliot and Katya looked, they saw Kristen kissing Olivia's shoulder. Olivia was so shocked that she was staring at Kristen, completing the picture of two women who were so busy with one another that they hadn't even noticed a visitor at the door.

Elliot's voice, thick and deep, drifted over to Olivia's ears as he assured Katya that they were, in fact, quite happily occupied before closing the door. His eyes were wide when he joined the pair on the couch.

Quite disturbed by both the way Elliot was so thoroughly intrigued and by the way Kristen was giggling, Olivia climbed to her tired feet. "I'm going to bed." She'd barely made it to the hall before Elliot followed her.

"They're watching us. Who do you think Katya kept looking at?"

"Then I'll leave the light on." She didn't like that they were being watched, though they'd long suspected it. She didn't like that the undercover assignment showed no signs of ending any time soon. She didn't like that she hadn't had a chance to talk much with her partner since they'd kissed that night. And she really didn't like that she was leaving a turned-on Elliot alone with a beautiful woman in the other room. She could only hope that his wedding band meant something to him.

Not that it had bothered him one bit when he'd been trying to get her into bed.

By the time Monday rolled around, OCCB, more specifically Captain Ellis, had grown tired of their lack of progress. Olivia tried to argue that it would take some time to earn the trust of those in charge of the operation. But Cragen wasn't really supportive of losing them for some indeterminate period of time and Elliot, well, if Elliot ever got off the phone call with his extremely angry wife, Olivia knew he wanted done with the situation too.

It wasn't that Olivia was having so much fun being undercover that she didn't want it to end. It was that every day when she went into work, the faces of the girls, Halina and Marina and Anya, stared at her from their files, telling her there were others in similar situations and she couldn't turn her back on them.

While Elliot continued his call, Olivia stood in Cragen's office, facing the two angry captains and promised they would get results within a week. They would step up their attempts, make more direct inquiries, find some way in.

Olivia couldn't bear the thought that there were other girls out there who would be forgotten if she didn't get to them. She returned to her desk and began searching through the list of assets Peter had provided. In only a few minutes, she found a couple good spots, places more likely than restaurants to get them noticed again.

The Simonovichs owned a couple of clubs. And the Grants were crashing them.


	8. Chapter 8

Part Eight

_After _

_ Sitting in a doctor's office was never precisely what Elliot would call fun. Most of his experiences had involved sick kids or a pregnant wife or the emergency room, which was another sort of thing altogether._

_ But sitting in an unfamiliar waiting room with his partner, ex-partner, friend, ex-friend, whatever the hell Olivia was to him anymore, waiting for information on her health, which having not talked to her in weeks he couldn't begin to anticipate, was beyond nerve-wracking. Rather than think about all the things that could go wrong, he chose to count his blessings. He was sitting there, after all, next to Olivia who was unquestionably in better condition than when he'd last seen her. She was also tolerating his presence, another improvement from the last visit._

_ He sat there next to her on chairs shoved so closely together that his side was pressed into hers, staring blindly at a two-year-old sport fishing magazine with a grin on his face. She was alive. Being treated as an out-patient. Well enough to argue with him. Back to herself to glare at his grin as she filled out the pages of paperwork._

_ So what if his life was in the shambles? His wife had left him. His kids weren't speaking to him. His boss had serious concerns about his fitness for duty. But Olivia was pointedly ignoring him. Life seemed pretty damn good at that moment._

Before

The first club on the list seemed relatively benign. A background on it revealed only a few warnings for having served to underage kids, nothing more. It was terribly crowded, with a long line and a selective bouncer guarding the doors.

As Elliot greased the wheels with a wad of cash, Olivia wondered how he was going to explain the amount of money he'd spent. She'd felt bad enough writing up the paperwork for the day at the spa with Kristen.

At least they didn't have to wait. The bouncer happily waved them through with a smile. She didn't want to think about how easy life might have been had she been able to smooth the way with fifties.

They made their way to the bar, wading into the crowd several people deep on all sides. When they finally made contact with the counter, it didn't seem they were any closer to getting served.

She turned to her partner, reminding herself it was entirely inappropriate to notice the way he looked in his jeans, hoping he either wouldn't notice or wouldn't mind that she did anyway. "You think some cash will help?" If there was one thing she'd learned on this assignment, it was that few people were above dropping everything to take money for doing their jobs.

Elliot grinned, his eyes falling to the skin her red camisole exposed. "I think you've got a better chance than me here."

She grimaced at him, swearing it didn't thrill her that she could feel his eyes on her as she turned away. Emboldened by the attention, and maybe just a little to tease his jealous side, Olivia leaned over the bar allowing the preoccupied bartender a good glimpse at a part of her that Elliot himself had never seen.

Sure enough, drinks appeared in front of them moments later. The bartender waved off the twenty she offered in exchange. "On the house."

She turned back to Elliot with a self-satisfied smirk.

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. "Why doesn't flashing my chest at bartenders ever work for me?"

"Something you try often?"

"No." Settling his arm around her waist, he pulled her against him. "But I don't suppose it would work if I did."

"It would if they were female."

She saw his grin as he turned away. His ego didn't need inflating, but she liked when her flirtatious remarks broke a smile to his face. He always seemed truly surprised to receive a compliment, as though he couldn't quite believe it. It made her angry that Kathy didn't say nice things to him often enough. It made her wish she had the opportunity more frequently.

They nursed their drinks while checking out the club. It was pretty standard as far as clubs went, large bar, huge crowded dance floor, blaring music, the occasional nook barely lit for making out. Olivia's heart raced as she pondered the fact that they might well be using one for that purpose, as a part of their cover of course. As much as she dreaded the hurt and confusion and awkward morning after period, some part of her was quite eager to have the experience of Elliot's mouth and hands on her in a dance they both knew well, though not with each other.

There was only one noticeable difference from a million other clubs in the city. The part that got their attention was the second level. It was made up of private rooms, accessible by invitation only, surrounded by mirrored one-way glass. Whoever was up there, and Olivia could only imagine the Simonovichs were among them, was entertained by watching the gyrating group below. Trying to earn an invite, Edward turned Sarah loose to dance with anyone willing.

She'd never figured Elliot for a dancer, not that she was one herself, and Edward had already established that he liked watching Sarah with others. She wished she'd had the foresight to establish such a circumstance for herself. Instead, she offered Edward a seductive smile and hoped she didn't look as uncomfortable as she felt wading out into the sea of writhing bodies in search of someone who was exactly not her type.

She found a few willing souls, her body sandwiched between a couple within seconds. Desperate to elbow the pair groping her, she bit back her instincts and forced herself to have fun, or fake it convincingly. She told herself it was someone else's hands on her, someone else's body pressing against her. And it was completely in character for her to hold Elliot's eyes while she danced, giving her one thing she didn't have to pretend.

For his part, she wasn't sure he was acting at all. He was standing there, staring, his eyes watching her every move, his dark, furious, passionate glare unwavering. She didn't know if she was pissing him off or turning him on and she really didn't care. If both expressions looked the same to her, they'd look the same to anyone watching. It was rare to see so much emotion from the man directed at her and she reveled in it, in the fact that hell could freeze over before his eyes would leave hers.

When the man in front of her leaned in, she forced herself to smile, letting the stranger kiss her while her partner looked on. She let his hands wander over her the same way Elliot's own had a few days earlier. She let his body rub against hers. She let herself imagine she was back there, with him, swearing she wouldn't turn him away again.

But then there was a hand on her arm, a grip so tight it was sure to leave a bruise, eyes so hot she was no longer sure there was a difference between rage and lust. He was pulling her away, making no excuses, leaving her to wave sadly at her new friend as though she was actually sorry. His hand only released when his body had her pinned against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" His jaw was clenched. Maybe he hadn't minded Kristen playing, but he clearly objected to another man.

For the briefest moment, she let the fury flash across her face. She quickly masked it, knowing he'd seen it even though he didn't acknowledge it. "I'm trying to get attention."

"Congratulations, you've got it." He didn't even blink as he stared her down, his face inches from hers, his jealousy so palpable it nearly choked her.

As she watched the emotions warring in his eyes, she realized there were far too many. She realized that he'd lost it, for real, completely, forgotten the reason they were there, while she'd been teasing him.

Hating herself for having to do it then, yet knowing their lives could be in jeopardy if someone was watching and she didn't, she leaned forward. Her body pressed into his, her arms sliding up around his shoulders, her face moving closer to his. "Are you mad, Edward?"

She knew the answer damn well, but she had no idea how many of the people around were staff, nor how many of them were paying attention. She could only hope that her use of his temporary name broke through the hormonal haze she'd left him in.

His eyes darted down, glancing at her lips, his arms tightened around her, holding her even closer. His body was processing faster than his brain as he welcomed her advances. It was as his mouth was moving towards hers, as his eyes were slipping closed, he finally made sense of what she'd said.

She felt his body jerk like she'd slapped him, though he hardly moved at all. His mouth quirked up in a tight smile just before he leaned in to peck her lips. He was back in control, back to being Edward. She hated that she'd had to throw a wall up between them, necessary as it had been.

He moved away, inclining his head toward the bar. "I'm going to get us fresh beers."

She watched him leave, praying the longing in her expression would translate to lust for anyone who might be looking. Once he disappeared into the crowd at the bar, her eyes moved away. She was scanning, reminding herself she was working, looking for someone she might recognize from the dinner party or even Petya, someone who might get her upstairs where she assumed happenings more interesting than dancing were taking place.

Her eyes fell on a circle of girls near the adjacent wall. They were young, dressed to the nines, smiling and laughing, enjoying themselves. Olivia guessed their ages just on the legal side and found herself watching them, pretending Sarah was perusing the crowd for a girl the right age. The girls who'd been attacked were younger, but not by much. It would help get them attention, if she appeared to be interested in them.

But her fake interest suddenly turned to utter fascination as one of the girls moved against the wall, pulling out her phone to type something while her buddies headed for the dance floor. She might have been pleased to realize she'd been dead on about the age estimate, except that her heart had stopped the moment she saw the girl's face.

Maureen Stabler.

Olivia crossed the distance with purpose, hellbent on getting the young woman to leave before her father saw her. It would just be better for everyone if Elliot's eldest child was long gone before he found out she was in a club owned by the Russian mob who also just so happened to be trafficking in young female sex slaves.

She didn't even give the girl enough time to recognize her as she reached for the drink in her hand, knocking it to the floor, figuring it was probably a bad idea for Elliot to see the girl drinking even if she was of legal age.

"Hey!" Her eyes widened as she recognized her father's friend. "Ol-"

"Maureen, you need to get out of here now. Ok? I don't have time to explain. This is just not a good place for you to be. Get your friends and go."

Maureen wasn't interested in the warning, however, because the beer Olivia had disposed of hadn't been her first. She grinned a bit too widely, throwing her arms around Olivia as though they'd been the best of friends. "Hi!"

Olivia pulled back, gripping Maureen's arms. "Maureen! Sober up. Listen to me. Get out of her now." She held the girl's eyes, but she knew her message wasn't going in. Her attention turned instead to the dance floor, trying to spot one of the other girls, hoping someone among them was sober enough to take Maureen home.

Her eyes were trained on the floor, trying to recognize girls who were unfortunately exactly the demographic of most club-going types.

And so, she had no warning at all when her partner reappeared.

She just felt arms snake around her waist, his hands holding two bottles in front of her while he pressed against her back. She almost yelped in shock, except that she was too surprised to utter a sound when his head dropped immediately to her shoulder, pressing a kiss on her bare skin, another on her neck, and one on her temple.

"Miss me, baby?" He was definitely back in character.

At the most inopportune time.

Because while Maureen's beer goggles had prevented her from understanding Olivia's warning, the girl still recognized her father. The same father who was touching his partner in a most unpartnerly way.

The yelp Olivia hadn't been able to muster up fell out of the girl's mouth while she stared.

"Fuck!" Elliot realized at the same time to whom Olivia had been speaking.

Olivia reached for Maureen's arms again, hoping the surprise might have helped her come to her senses. "Maureen, we're working here. It's not what you think."

But Maureen was shaking her head, tears already falling. "No. No, no, no. This is not- no- just no!" She darted to the side, staggering into the throng of people.

Elliot reached for her, ready to blow his cover right there, succeeding in grabbing her wrist. "Maureen, wait-"

Maureen yanked hard, pulling her arm free, her movement sending her crashing into one of the bouncers guarding the steps to the second level.

The bouncer stepped in front of Elliot, shaking his head. "I think you should let the young lady go."

Elliot very nearly told the bouncer where he could shove his concern, but instead his arm reared back, as always expecting his fists to convey his meaning.


	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine

_After_

_ A few minutes after she turned in the multiple sheets to the desk, a nurse appeared to call her back. Elliot stood with her, being at her side so ingrained in him that it never occurred to him he wouldn't accompany her._

_ She looked at him with all traces of humor gone. "What the hell are you doing?" Though her voice was soft to keep from being overheard, there was no missing the irritation, the anger._

_ He only smiled, thinking it was just like her to get all pissed off at him over something so small. He shrugged at her. "You want me to wait out here?"_

_ Olivia turned to answer him, but the nurse's voice interrupted._

_ "Your husband can come back, it's no problem."_

_ Elliot stepped forward, amused at the nurse's mistake. "Come on, honey, we don't want to keep the doctor waiting."_

_ "I fucking hate you," she growled through clenched teeth. "And you're not my husband."_

_ Her words, her fury, the icy vibes radiating from her meant nothing to him. Not when she didn't bother to correct the mistake either. _

_ Of course, Elliot wasn't one to not push his luck and so, as they were ushered into an exam room, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I might as well be."_

Before

Before his hand had time to connect with the bouncer, Olivia stepped in front of him. She knew he had no clue right then what he was doing. He was simply angry and hurt and lashing out at the first legitimate option.

As soon as he saw her, he paused, his desire to hit someone fading when he realized that someone would be her. Knowing she'd made some kind of headway with him, her hands pressed against his chest, trying to separate him from his intended target in case he changed his mind.

She backed him up a few steps, but the bouncer moved with them and Olivia was convinced the other man was listening for someone's benefit besides his own. She spoke loudly to be heard by both over the music.

"Relax, Edward, we'll find another girl." She held his eyes as she spoke, waiting for the moment of comprehension.

Instead he stared at her like she was nuts.

"There are plenty of girls here tonight, Edward. No use getting all upset about that one." Leaning in as she spoke, she tried to distract him. Her hands moved up to his neck, her forearms landing on his shoulders. "Hey, it's just me. Calm down."

Whether due to her physical contact or the fact that she'd stopped using the wrong name, he was coming back, his eyes locked on hers as he came down from the high he always found at the prospect of beating the crap out of someone.

Finally, he nodded, his hands moving to her waist, telling her that he remembered where they were and who they were supposed to be and what they were doing.

"I'll get this round," she said as she eyed the bottles he'd dropped. She stepped away, her arms falling to her sides. "Don't beat anyone up while I'm gone, ok?" It was safe to joke. Elliot was back in control.

The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile. "I'll try."

When she returned, the bouncer was long gone. She sidled up to Elliot, certain they were still being watched if not listened to. "Maureen was here with friends. Think you night recognize any of them?"

He shook his head, though his eyes were scanning the dance floor. "She's twenty-three. She doesn't really introduce her friends to us anymore."

Draping one arm around his neck, she began dragging him toward the dance floor. "Work with me here, will you?"

He grinned as he followed her lead. "I don't dance, Liv. Don't even try it."

"Maybe you don't. But Edward does." Besides, she figured there wasn't really any dancing to be done. She had been watching Maureen's friend for long enough that she should be able to find one of them.

She managed to spot one girl she thought she recognized, but when she asked about Maureen, the girl only shrugged before shaking her head. She suspected between the pounding music and the alcohol, the girl didn't have any idea what she was asking. Her shoulders drooped as she looked at Elliot with a shrug before turning to scan the crowded floor again. Picking out another candidate, she surged forward again.

They only got a couple steps when their bouncer friend appeared. Olivia caught Elliot's eye, a brief reassuring moment to tell him whatever it was - that they'd been made, that Maureen had been identified, that they were being kicked out - she was with him.

The guy smiled, though, inclining his head toward the roped off steps. "Your presence is requested upstairs."

Giving up her quest to get a message to Maureen, Olivia turned to Elliot with a smile. "What's upstairs?"

Elliot looked upward, as though he hadn't noticed the mirrors above. He casually hooked an arm around her shoulders. "It's got to be better than this!"

Her arm went around his waist as though she were quite used to such an action and turned to the bouncer with a smile. "Lead the way."

The bouncer led them up the steps and opened a door. "Enjoy your evening."

"Hey, sorry about earlier." Elliot threw out the apology along with some denomination of cash Olivia couldn't see. "No hard feelings?"

The bouncer shook his head with a grin. "None, sir."

While Elliot was muttering something about being a 'sir' suddenly, Olivia was checking out their new surroundings. The walls were dark wood, sections divided by deep red velvet curtains. Each section held a group of chairs and couches, covered in a warm gold fabric. And though she was sure the tables and flowers were quite expensive as well, she ignored them, opting instead to lean over the angled glass, staring down to the dancers.

She smirked at Elliot, figuring such voyeurism was right up Sarah and Edward's alley.

He joined her, taking his time to peruse the group writhing below. "Nice."

"It's perfect, Edward," she purred, playing the part of a contented wife. "You were right, I love it here."

He grinned at her. "I told you you would."

A waiter, who Olivia suspected doubled as a bouncer as well, approached to offer them glasses of wine. Elliot shook his head, requesting a whiskey, slipping the man a tip, and telling him to keep them coming. Having only had a few sips of her first beer and less than half of her second, Olivia reluctantly accepted the wine. She'd have to stay sober enough to drive, especially since Elliot appeared to be planning on the opposite.

They settled back on one of the couches with their drinks, watching the crowd and eyeing the people around the room. Olivia thought she recognized one couple from the dinner party, but not the rest. Most of them were too busy with their partners to notice the newcomers. Swallowing uncomfortably, Olivia knew they were going to have follow suit to blend in because she suspected they were still being watched.

Elliot seemed to catch on before she did, his arm stretching around her shoulder and pulling her close. She didn't resist, even though she knew she should. It was hard to remember it wasn't real when she was putting so much energy into making it look that way. As soon as he downed his drink, which was before the waiter had walked away, he ordered a double.

She shifted her face up to whisper in his ear. "You might want to pay as much attention to me as you are to your next drink."

His hand grabbed the back of her head, keeping her still when he turned to face her. "I'm paying attention to you."

His smirk, the way his eyes darted to her lips, told her a few more drinks and he'd be paying her a bit too much attention. While she was concentrating on extricating herself from a kiss she feared she would never be able to end, his hand slid up her back, across her shoulder, his fingers hooking around the thin strap of her camisole and sliding it down.

She knew her eyes were wide and for that reason she was glad he leaned in front of her, blocking her face from the view of the audience. Unfortunately, he hadn't done it to protect her. His mouth was on her neck a moment later, his lips parting, his tongue tasting her skin.

She swore it was simply shock, and her attempt to mask it, that caused the groan to spill from her lips.

And it was for the good of their cover, of course, that she let her head fall back, giving him free access to her neck. Access which he was so busy making use of that she wound up accepting his whiskey for him.

Loathe to interrupt her little fantasy come true, she waited as long as she could. But she was well aware that much more seduction from Elliot's mouth on her body and she would climb in his lap, demanding that he finish what he started.

Scraping together every shred of her self-control, she shifted back. "Edward, wait. I want to watch."

When he sat back, his eyes were wide and confused. It made her feel a lot better to know she wasn't the only one getting carried away. The line between them had always been so distinct and unmistakable that the sudden switch to completely blurred was throwing them off balance.

But Elliot was back in character, relaxed and content and overly sexual, so different from the man she knew, that it was somewhat sobering. He shrugged with a smug grin that told anyone who might be looking that he full well expected to get some from her later, and sat back on the couch. One arm stretched across the back of the sofa, the other accepting the drink she'd been holding while signaling the waiter for another.

Still a bit sober, he caught her eyes. "Tell me if you spot someone interesting."

She decided it was perfectly in character for her to drape herself across him as she stared at the dance floor. She wanted to think it was proof of his trust in her that he left her to look for Maureen's friends while he drank himself into a stupor, but while she was bored to tears watching for someone she recognized, Elliot's hands were getting friendlier than they needed to be.

She'd learned something that week – clearly Elliot could not hold his liquor. She'd never really given it any thought. He was Irish. He was solid muscle. She naturally assumed the man could throw down with the best. But there he was, feeling her up, getting quite turned on in the process, she could feel it the way she was pressed against him, and pounding back the whiskey like it was going out of style. Part of her wanted to smack him, considering they'd just been down that very same road a few days earlier, for getting drunk and thinking he was getting lucky.

The rest of her loved every minute of it and wished it would never stop.

By the time Olivia finally positively identified a girl she'd seen with Maureen, Elliot could barely walk. But she managed to get him to his feet, pointing at the girl, trying to make sense to the drunk man without blowing their cover.

He finally noticed where she was pointing, his face lighting up in a grin. "Hey, that's Megan!"

She had no idea if it was actually Megan or not, but it was a perfectly good reason to drag Elliot out of the club, which she needed to do as soon as possible or else he'd be sleeping it off there. Olivia paid no attention to anyone as she pulled Elliot down the stairs back to the main floor. Thankfully the alcohol made Elliot malleable and he simply followed her.

"Megan?" She shouted over the music she felt could best be described as noise at the girl.

She nodded, smiling with a curious look on her face. "Ye-" Her face broke into a smile. "Mr. Stabler! What are you doing here?"

His grin was wide as the girl hugged him. He nodded at Olivia. "This is Liv."

In keeping with the job she was still trying to keep, she pretended she knew Megan, hugging her tightly. "Just go with it, ok?"

Megan looked confused, but nodded. "Did you guys see Maureen?"

Olivia nodded, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, knowing no one could overhear with all the noise. "We're working. Can you leave with us?"

"Sure. I was supposed to make sure Maureen got home, but I can't find her."

Olivia laughed in relief. "Oh, thank God, you're sober!"

Megan nodded, eyeing Elliot. "Are you?"

Elliot snickered, not realizing it wasn't the least bit funny. Especially since it would be that much harder to convince everyone involved that Elliot was working when he was drunk.

"Let's get out of here." In an attempt to keep their cover intact, Olivia took Megan's hand and pulled the group out the door.

Megan listened politely as Olivia drove her home, her smirk revealing exactly what she thought of the story.

Olivia wanted to smack Elliot for having chosen that night to get tanked. She didn't know why she was trying to fix her partner's mess and keep his family's respect for him while he was making snarky comments from the passenger seat. At least he wasn't touching her anymore, though she couldn't swear that was a good thing.

But Megan agreed she'd tell Maureen everything Olivia had told her and promised she and her friends would never set in that club again.

It was almost two in the morning when she dragged her half-conscious partner into their living room. She was exhausted and wanted to crash herself, but she couldn't let Elliot down. Not when he'd trusted her.

After getting him to the couch, she shook him awake. "El, come on, it's not time for bed yet."

He chuckled at her with a drunken grin. "It's never time for bed with us, is it?"

"We're not getting into that tonight, El, please."

He stared at her for a long time, until his eyes started to close again.

She shook him again. "El, you need to call Kathy."

He grimaced, an uninhibited reaction that she wished she had the nerve to ask him about while he was drunk enough to tell her the truth. But she couldn't take advantage of him.

"You need to call her now. Before Maureen does." Because, even if Megan did as promised, there was no telling if Maureen had already talked to Kathy or would believe what Megan told her. Seeing was believing, after all, and Maureen had seen plenty.

Finally, Elliot took his phone out of his pocket. "Fine, fine, I'll call her."

She waited until he'd dialed and put the phone to his ear before she gave him some privacy. She didn't want to hear what he'd say. She didn't want anything to do with that phone call. She'd done her part. She'd done enough to save Elliot's marriage. The rest was up to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Part Ten

_After_

_ Elliot leaned against the wall nervously while the nurse checked over Olivia. He waited while she checked her blood pressure and popped a thermometer in her mouth and took her pulse. He pretended not to be concerned when the nurse asked about pain and discomfort and Olivia answered affirmatively. They were at the doctor's. If there was anything wrong with her, anything more than the obvious, they were in the right place. He swallowed hard when Olivia glanced at him, then changed her mind and said everything was fine._

_ The nurse offered them a tight smile, beginning to pick up on the tension in the room. "The doctor will be in shortly." As soon as she closed the door behind her, a miserable silence fell over the room._

_ Elliot gave first, as he usually did, knowing Olivia would lie about feeling pain. Hell, she would remain stoic in the face of death. Lord knew she would never give in. He'd seen it a million times._

_ "Do you want me to wait outside?"_

_ She looked at him, her eyes slowly turning around from the ever-so-fascinating arrangement of gauze pads and cotton balls and tongue depressors in glass jars on the counter. "No, it's fine."_

_ He knew it wasn't. But she wasn't going to fold. She wasn't going to show weakness in front of him by asking him to leave. _

Before

Olivia was flat out exhausted. Her eyelids felt too heavy to lift, and yet, that was exactly what seemed to be expected of her. She pried one eye open, finding her partner perched on the side of her bed, looking somewhat worse for wear.

"What," she grumbled at him. He wasn't bleeding and no one had a gun to his head. Therefore, she saw no reason for him to have woken her.

"I wanted to let you know I'm leaving for work."

She looked at the clock and determined, in that sleepy-math she could only ever completely understand while she was only semi-conscious, that she had plenty of time to sleep. But the man sitting on her bed seemed to want some sort of response from her. "Next time leave a note."

It took her a moment to realize in her hazy state that Elliot's hand was brushing her hair back from her face. Completely unsure what to do with the man's sudden proclivity towards touching her even when he was sober, she rolled away from him and was asleep before he left the room.

It was only as she was driving to work a couple hours later that she realized Elliot had probably been more tired than she was, if only because he was hung over. But she didn't feel too bad for him. It had been his choice to drink. He knew full well the consequences of his actions.

Still, she knew what he was feeling since she'd just been through it a week earlier, and stopped to pick him up something to eat, knowing he'd skipped breakfast. Sitting the sandwich and drink on his desk, she looked around for someone who might be able to tell her where her partner had gotten off to. They'd caught up on months worth of incomplete forms and spent most of the days helping out anyone in the precinct. Although the undercover assignment was getting to them both, she knew there was more to it than just confused personal boundaries. If they didn't get back on the streets soon, they'd go stir crazy.

There was no one around the squad room, so she walked over to Cragen's open door, expecting the boss could at least point her in the direction of someone with something for her to do. Cragen wasn't alone in the office, however, and the unexpectedness of the visitor kept Olivia glued to her spot just outside the door. The other woman had just arrived, as evidenced by the greeting she offered, but the fact that she was there at all piqued Olivia's interest.

It was quite a rare occasion indeed when Kathy Stabler showed up at the precinct. Even rarer still that she wasn't there to talk to Elliot. Olivia thought perhaps Kathy had gone there to talk to Elliot and sought out Cragen for the same reason Olivia had. But as she listened, it became clear that Kathy was there specifically to see Cragen.

And Olivia really wished she'd listened in on that phone call after all. Intrigued, and hating herself for it, she leaned against the wall, trying to hear every word.

"That's ok, Don, I'm not here to see Elliot."

There was a distinct pause and Olivia could only imagine how desperately Cragen was looking for something he could pretend to be busy doing. "Something I can help you with?" His tone made it quite clear he was praying to avoid being involved in whatever it was.

Kathy sighed loudly and Olivia rolled her eyes at the overly dramatic sound. "I'm going to ask you a simple question and I'd like a straight answer, ok?" Olivia couldn't see, but she guessed there was a nod in the silence when Kathy continued. "I want to know if Elliot was working last night."

In the awkward silence that followed, Olivia could practically see the desire on Cragen's face to be anywhere besides there. She'd seen that expression many, many times over the years.

He cleared his throat. "Elliot has been working on an undercover assignment recently. I can't give you any details, Kathy, I'm sure you understand."

"Was he working last night?"

Olivia wanted to stride right into the office and ask Kathy what the hell was wrong with her to question her husband's honesty. He'd called her in the middle of the night to explain the situation. She should have had the courtesy to listen.

"He's been working twenty-four seven on this case." Cragen was dodging the question, giving the most specific answers possible, and Olivia wondered why he didn't just set the woman straight and send her on her way.

Kathy caught on to the fact that Cragen was only going to answer direct questions and stopped beating around the bush. "Would he have had any reason to be in a club last night? Drinking with his partner? Where my daughter might have bumped into them?"

Olivia realized that not only had Elliot failed entirely to explain his assignment to Kathy, but he'd neglected to tell her about bumping into Maureen as well. It occurred to her that she'd left him half asleep and entirely intoxicated to make a very important phone call that he obviously hadn't made. She felt like an ass. And she felt bad for Elliot, who'd probably forgotten about the whole thing since he hadn't been able to remember long enough to explain it to his wife.

Cragen must have realized Elliot's failure to disclose certain facts to his wife at the same time because he slammed something down on his desk. "Yes, Kathy, they were working last night. And if one of your children was anywhere around what they're investigating, I'd tell her to find better places to hang out."

Kathy was quiet for a minute, her voice soft when she spoke again. "Thank you, Don."

"No problem." Olivia could hear the relief in his voice that whatever the fallout from the information he'd provided, he wouldn't be witness to it firsthand.

She heard footsteps as Kathy headed for the door, but before she moved away, she heard them stop. Her blood ran cold, fearing she'd been caught eavesdropping. It was only a second before Kathy's voice sounded again, her words revealing that it hadn't been Olivia's presence that had given her pause.

"You know, Don," she spoke in a small, scared, sad voice, as if keeping her words quiet might soften their meaning. "I asked you the same question a long, long time ago. It's probably been more than ten years now, when they hadn't been partners very long." She paused, and Olivia wished she could see the other woman's face. "Not that Maureen was old enough to see them then, but still," her voice faltered. "You looked me in the eye and swore to me I didn't have anything to worry about."

Neither said a word for a long time. Olivia swallowed hard and wondered exactly what the silence meant, if perhaps one or both of them knew about the kisses she and Elliot had shared in the previous week.

And then Kathy spoke again, her voice strong and certain. "You're not going to say it this time, are you?"

Again silence reigned. But it spoke volumes to Olivia, who carefully moved back to her desk. She didn't care what else was said in that office; she knew enough. Well, she'd heard enough. What she understood, what she knew, they remained quite muddled concepts.

Thankfully she was seated at her desk with a pile of paperwork in front of her by the time Kathy stepped into the bullpen. She glanced up, trying to remain neutral and friendly, the way she would have been had she not been privy to that conversation. She offered Kathy a smile and nod.

Kathy didn't meet her eyes.

The uncomfortable moment was mercifully interrupted by Elliot's voice. "Kathy, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Olivia buried her face in forms she'd already completed, knowing better than to look up as Elliot dragged his wife out into the hallway.

Elliot sat at his desk, huffing and muttering and slamming drawers. Olivia knew better than to ask. Honestly, she didn't want to know anyway.

But Elliot wasn't about to let her avoid his bad mood, like always, he was far too happy to share it with his partner. "Fuck, Liv, why didn't you remind me to call Kathy?"

Her eyes went wide. "What? I chased down one of Maureen's friends to set her straight before I dragged your drunk ass home and put you on the phone to Kathy. Did you expect me to call her myself and explain?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked down. "I guess that's why I woke up with the phone under my head."

And then she really did feel bad. Because she had left him alone to call and evidently he'd been too drunk to manage that after all. She shrugged. "Considering that you were too drunk to finish dialing her without my supervision, it probably wouldn't have been a good time to talk with her anyway."

He nodded, slowly raking his hands over his face. "God, I'm too old for this shit. I didn't party like that when I was twenty."

She smiled, knowing the booze hit her harder than it used to as well. "We've only got the rest of the week before Ellis pulls the plug on us. Think you can make it?"

Elliot smiled. "So what's on the agenda for tonight?"

The next two nights were lost in a fog of loud music and drunken club-goers and people with far too much time to party. Though they'd both stayed sober, the late nights were still taking their toll on them. They were running out of time as well, still hoping to get close enough that the Simonovichs might try to entice them to buy a young girl to buy for their amusement.

It was about a half hour after they'd munched on sandwiches at their desks for lunch when Olivia looked over to see Elliot's head tilted to the side, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. She laughed as she tossed a pen at him, the light tap of the pen on his chest causing him to jerk awake.

"Jesus!" He blinked in the odd silence following his shout, staring back at all the people staring at him. He caught Olivia's eye and glared. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

"You're the one sleeping on the job." She held out her hand, waiting for her partner to hand back her pen. "I was trying to keep you from getting caught."

He leaned forward, dropping his chin into his hands. "Can we skip tonight? Stay in one night and go to bed before it's time to get back up?"

She smiled, amused that he was asking her. Maybe he'd been playing her husband too long and thought he needed her permission. It seemed like the thoughtful thing a husband would do – check with his wife about her plans for the evening. "Yeah, we're running out of clubs."

"Plus, hitting their clubs every night is bound to be a bit obvious, right?"

She loved the idea of taking the night off and relaxing, but she dreaded it as well. A quiet night hanging around her not-house with her not-husband would only serve to make her wish for something she didn't, couldn't, have. More emotional problems were not something she needed.

Still, she couldn't tell him no. She never could. "We can order a pizza and watch a movie or something."

He nodded, a smile forming on his lips that didn't fade the rest of the afternoon.

She was waiting for him when he got home, already settled on the couch in sweats with a half-eaten bag of microwave popcorn on her lap. Ignoring the perfectly natural way it felt when he tossed his jacket on the chair and flopped next to her on the couch, she offered the popcorn. "It's still warm."

He glanced at it, then at her. "Get dressed."

"What? You're kidding, right?" She looked at him in shock, having grown quite attached to the idea of sitting right where she was for the rest of the night without shoes on.

"Let's go out." He was already standing, pulling at his tie, untucking his shirt as he walked toward the hall. "I'll be out of the shower in five minutes, ready to go in ten."

"I thought we were staying in." Grumpily, she threw the popcorn on the coffee table and stomped after him. She leaned in the bathroom door, trying not to look as he tossed his shirt on the floor and started unfastening his pants. "Where are we going, exactly?"

He turned back to her, no modesty at all as he unzipped his pants and kicked them off. "Just dinner. Just out. Not for…" He motioned around them vaguely to let her know he meant that they wouldn't be working.

Shrugging, she headed for the bedroom to change. God forbid the man continue stripping in front of her. There wasn't much left to go, and she suspected he'd show the same amount of self-consciousness about dropping his drawers in front of her.

Not that she'd mind. No, not at all.

But they probably wouldn't make it to dinner. Not after she tackled him and had her way with the man. Hell, he probably wouldn't mind that either.

She pulled on jeans, a pink button-down and grabbed a white sweater just in case. It was decent to go out in, but comfortable enough that she wouldn't miss her sweats. Her feet happily slipped into a pair of flat sandals, foregoing her painful heels for the night. She went back to the living room to give Elliot the privacy she doubted he cared about when she heard the shower shut off.

True to his word, it wasn't long before he emerged from the hallway, dressed in a navy polo and khakis. He took one look at her as she pulled her sweater over her shoulders and laughed.

"What?" Nervously, she looked down to see if she'd forgotten to button her shirt or something.

He looked her up and down shaking his head. "You look like you fell out of the J. Crew catalog."

"And you don't, Mr. Preppy?" They were limited by the clothes they'd been provided, except for the few things of their own they'd managed to sneak in. Every time they set foot out the door, however, there was a good chance they could be watched, and so, mostly the items of their own were ones they wore around the house.

With a grin, Elliot held out his elbow to her. "Shall we, Mrs. Preppy?"

She linked her arm through his, still giddy at the thought of touching him, no matter how many times she'd done so. It was fun, pretending to be his wife.

Her smile fell in the car, realizing that it wasn't a good thing to get so attached to the concept.


	11. Chapter 11

Part Eleven

_After_

_She wasn't going to let him see weakness by telling the doctor the truth either. He knew it was his own fault. He should have waited outside. He should have said he had to make a phone call to force her to accept the privacy he'd insisted on invading._

_ He felt like an idiot. He'd let her back him into a corner while he thought he was in charge. He'd thought she hadn't objected to his presence in the office because she didn't mind it. But really, she was using him as an excuse to bullshit the doctor. It wasn't just that she didn't want to appear weak in front of him. She didn't want the doctor to know she wasn't impervious to pain either, which, under the circumstances, was absolutely ridiculous._

_ He wasn't going to let her get away with it._

_ He waited while the doctor examined her, while the genial older man chatted with her about the nice weather they'd been having and asked if she needed any paperwork for her boss about the time off. He gave her every opportunity to fold._

_ But when the doctor stood to leave, smiling at her and asking if she had any more questions, Elliot had had enough. He would never go against her wishes, never do something without her permission. Unless her life depended on it. He couldn't let her put herself in danger. Not when he'd already come so close to losing her. Not when he'd given up so much to save her._

Before

Dinner was nice. A decent meal, good company, and no pretending to be other people. They were in public and therefore couldn't let their guards down completely, but as many people had joked over the years, they already acted like an old married couple, so their natural behavior together would suffice as long as no one was listening.

Elliot had grown quiet by the time their plates were cleared, however, and Olivia figured it was as good a time as any to inquire, especially since he was hardly in a position to stalk off and refuse to speak to her.

"What's wrong?"

He shrugged at her, not bothering to deny that something was going on. His hand played with the straw in his soda, stirring the ice around as he debated answering.

Apparently hell had frozen over.

"Kathy's talking about getting a divorce."

Suddenly she wished he hadn't decided to talk. Her feelings on the subject were too mixed. She knew his marriage vows meant everything to him; the 'until death do us part' crap had taken hold of him at twenty and never let go. His family meant the world to him, but she knew that ill-advised promise he'd made had kept him in a relationship that made him miserable more often than not as of late. But she'd witnessed what the idea of a divorce did to him once and she was in no hurry to see it again.

Still, she loved the idea that he might be single again, even though it had hardly worked out in her favor the last time.

Unsure whether to cheer or cry, it wasn't hard to keep her expression completely neutral. "What happened?"

"Besides finding out that I was making out with you from a tipsy, hysterical Maureen?"

She grimaced, but refused to blame herself for that anymore. There wasn't much else she could have done. "She knows we were working, right?"

He nodded. "It's not just that." He lifted his drink to his lips, taking a sip of the melted ice. "Not that finding out you were involved in where I've been didn't help."

Shaking her head, she groaned. "You didn't tell her?" Even if they had remained professional the whole time, hiding the information from his wife made them look guilty.

"I know, I know." The way he hung his head indicated that he really did know what a phenomenally bad idea it had been to keep the details from his wife. "I just never thought we'd bumped into Maureen who'd coincidentally be too drunk to understand we were working and would run right out and call her mother."

Olivia snickered. "Yeah, I can't say that's something I would have planned on myself." She bit her lip, hating what she felt she had to say. "You still should have told her." The fact was that his lie of omission regarding the job made the situation look even worse.

His face hardened as he glared and Olivia could see how much he wanted to storm away from her and refuse to talk about it anymore. "I figured what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her."

Which was understandable, at least, if there was something to hide. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Elliot continued speaking.

"Telling her would have caused trouble anyway. Keeping it from her was the best option."

"Except she found out anyway."

He glared at her. "Why are you doing this?"

She stared back, raising her hands to push herself away from the table. "I'm not doing anything." She stood up. "Excuse me."

He reached out, his hand covering hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. "She's jealous, Liv. She's jealous of you and of us and of-"

Panic overwhelmed her and she snatched her hand back. "There is no us, Elliot. Maybe if you told her there was nothing to be jealous of there wouldn't be a problem." She needed the time a trip to the ladies room provided. It seemed that their relationship was already going to hell, exactly the way it had the last time Kathy Stabler got pissed off enough at her husband to leave him.

Apparently her choices were married and perfect or single and asshole.

She stared at her face in the mirror, trying to school her features into an expression that didn't look quite so disappointed and then headed back to her partner.

He had paid the check and was waiting for her at the bar, offering her a beer. "I'm sorry. Kathy's bullshit makes me nuts sometimes."

Though the disagreement seemed to be over, Olivia knew all too well how quickly that could change, and it usually did when they were both under stress. She hurried through half her beer before setting it on the bar. "You ready?"

He was doing more staring at his beer than actually drinking it, and so offered no argument as he left the barely touched bottle next to hers. He looked at her for a long moment, a smile appearing as he chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You know, I always suspected you'd be the reason I wound up divorced, but I always thought I'd get to sleep with you first." He turned and headed for the door, completely unaware he'd left a shell-shocked Olivia frozen in place.

The ride back to the house was quiet. Olivia would have said awkward, but Elliot didn't even seem to realize he'd said anything remotely out of the ordinary to her. He was perfectly calm and relaxed and she envied that about him. He wasn't given to musing over his behavior and words and feelings. He wasn't going to sit awake all night analyzing every bit of their conversation, trying to find some hint of something that wasn't there or an understanding of something that was.

He looked over at her as he pulled up out front. "You ok?"

"Yeah, fine." Until the analyzing was done, she felt lying was called for. Because maybe he hadn't meant to imply that he was attracted to her and wanted to have sex with her and had thought about it enough times to come to the conclusion it would be worth destroying his marriage. And if he hadn't meant that, then she shouldn't point out that his little comment had blown her out of the water.

Sometimes it absolutely amazed her how quickly time could disappear. They were sitting on the couch together, watching some movie that Elliot had said was good. She'd tried to pay attention because she honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a decent movie, or any movie at all really, but it was hard. She was full from dinner and comfortable and snuggled up next to a nice warm body. Even her confusion about what he'd said had been silenced by the way he'd thrown his arm over the back of the couch behind her and how his hand had slowly migrated to her shoulder.

She was too content to fight it, allowing herself to drift to sleep, her head falling onto his shoulder sometime after his arm had curled around her. The lights were off, but the television was still on, keeping the room light enough to see. At some point when she'd been asleep, she turned toward him, her hand coming to rest on his stomach. And though he'd been the one to suggest the movie, she knew he wasn't watching it either. His head was leaning against hers, his cheek resting on her forehead.

She loved the way his hand was moving, drawing slow circles on her back, and she wished they could stay like that forever. Recognizing that it was simply too good to last, she wasn't at all surprised when his hand moved away. Disappointed, yes; surprised, no.

Except that his hand moved to her head, his fingers weaving into her hair, using the leverage to tilt her head up.

Any hint of sleepiness was driven out of her by her pounding heart. His face was touching hers ever so lightly, the softest nuzzling sensation she'd ever felt as his cheek and nose and lips ran along her skin. She didn't know if he was enjoying the contact or giving her fair warning or moving slowly to prolong the inevitable, but she loved it. She loved him for it. She loved that there was a side of him, a side he was allowing her to see, that wasn't all angry and rough.

And then his mouth touched hers, pausing there, drawing out the moment before he kissed her. Unlike the previous times he'd kissed her, his mouth was soft, gentle, sweet. He was testing her, seeing if she would allow it, letting her set the pace. As if she had any choice. She returned the light pressure, letting him know that she wasn't going to argue.

The kiss stayed sweet, tentative. She wanted to revel in it, let it go on forever, but at the same time, it wasn't nearly enough. Luckily, Elliot agreed with her. Going slow enough to make her nuts, his lips parted, carefully feeling their way around hers, closing around her top lip, tasting it with his tongue.

She couldn't believe the way he was kissing her, so tenderly, so perfectly. It was nearly enough to make her cry. But she didn't dare – it might give him the wrong idea and make him stop.

It was forever before his hand shifted, gripping the back of her head, his fingers still tangled in her hair, holding her still while he pressed closer, his tongue finally tracing the line between her lips, taking full advantage of the invitation she offered by way of parting them. The kiss grew in intensity then, their emotions too strong to stay restrained in those moments.

Her hand clutched at his shirt, trying to keep him there, hoping he was as inclined to never move as she was. The arm he'd had around her moved lower, his hand splaying against the small of her back, pulling her into him. Even after her chest was tight against his, even after she'd moved her arms around him, he kept up the pressure, trying to fuse them together or pull her into his lap or something. She couldn't do much to cooperate, her brain melting at the concept that he was kissing her, really her, not Sarah, and that alcohol couldn't possibly be a factor since they'd had less than a whole beer between the two of them.

As right as it felt, and she wasn't sure anything had ever felt quite that right before in her life, she knew it wasn't. The way it was going, the passion she couldn't deny in herself nor in his response to her, the kissing could only end in one place. And she wasn't ready for that. Not while Elliot was married. Not while only Kathy was talking about a divorce. Not while Elliot had given her no indication that a second separation would stick any better than the first had.

She knew he wasn't looking for a quick fuck, though she'd made the mistake of thinking that when he'd kissed her before; that wasn't like him. She knew he cared about her, he was clearly attracted to her, he probably felt as confused as she did about spending day and night together.

But she was the one who was bound to get her hopes up.

And she was the one who was bound to get hurt.

Pulling back, she saw the confusion and hurt on his face, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had to save herself first. She sat back, pushing herself away from him, telling herself it was for the best.

"We can't do this, El." She couldn't meet his eyes. She feared he'd see her desperation, her hope that he would argue.

He didn't. Because she was right.

She needed air and found it by stepping out onto the deck. The front was too public for her right then, when she craved a moment of solitude. She leaned on the railing, folding her hands and staring into the darkness. She couldn't see anything, not with the porch light out, but she didn't really want to see anything anyway. There were sounds though, cars, doors, voices, laughter, the noise of normal people living their normal lives. Lives that weren't steeped in longing and confusion and fear and loss and soul-killing aches for what they didn't have.

She hated being there, in their neighborhood, so close to and yet so far from a life she knew she'd never have. She listed to the sounds of the house next door, the door opening, footsteps, the thud of a garbage bag hitting the can, more footsteps, the door closing. She wanted to go over there, join the family, become one of them, have their life. She hadn't felt like that since grade school, when she wanted to be Lisa Steigler with her perfectly even pigtails adorned with matching ribbons.

Envy was one thing she hated in herself.

She turned away, back to the darkness that surrounded her. She could go inside, take what he was offering, try to be happy with it. It wasn't exactly what she wanted. It wasn't the way she wanted it. But it was something. Something to keep her life from being empty and meaningless. Maybe Elliot had been right those years ago, that it had been her that was complicating something simple.

She knew mosquitoes were probably eating her alive, but she didn't care. She didn't move. The bites would bother her later, when she could feel them.

The confusion and desire and hope had faded, leaving her in an abyss of pain, hurt so deep it welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. The only thing all the misery in her life had in common was her, after all. Maybe everything that had gone wrong in her life was her fault.

She didn't know how long it was before she heard the door behind her. There wasn't time to wipe the tears from her eyes and so instead she remained staring resolutely forward. But he either didn't pick up on the body language or he didn't care, because she heard him move toward her.

A softness folded around her shoulders and she jumped at the unexpected contact.

"Sorry. I thought you might get chilly out here."

She glanced down at the sweater she'd been wearing earlier, wanting to sob harder at the gesture, holding it back. She nodded in the hope that would be enough of a response. She didn't want to explain why she was crying. He'd try to make it better. And he couldn't. His concern, his worry, his feelings would just make it worse.

"You ok?"

She nodded again.

His hands moved to her shoulders, rubbing lightly down her arms. "Liv-"

She shrugged him off, shaking her head. "Don't. Just don't."

The quiet around them became so thick she nearly begged forgiveness just to make it stop. He was standing behind her, not saying a word, not moving. She held her breath. She didn't know if she wanted him to stand his ground and demand she talk to him or if she'd prefer him to run away with his tail between his legs. She imagined he was trying to figure that out as well.

Unfortunately, he chose the latter, not saying another word as he walked away, telling her everything she needed to know when he slammed the door behind him.

She knew then she'd wanted him to stay, but it was too late. If she hadn't been so stubborn, if she'd let him see that she wanted him, if she'd allowed herself to need him, he would have been there. She knew it. She knew he would have done whatever she asked. He had. She'd refused to talk to him, to even look at him, and so he'd left her alone, the way she'd pretended she wanted him to.

She'd been right to think every lonely and sad day of her life had been her own fault. There was no one else to blame. She was by herself because she insisted on it. She brought the misery on herself. There was no point in crying about it.

She wiped at the tears, turning toward the house, but something made her turn back, her eyes searching the darkness for something she couldn't name.

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. A gut feeling that something was off. With a shudder, she hurried into the house, locking the door behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

Part Twelve

_After_

_ "Why don't you tell him the truth, Olivia?" His words got the attention of the doctor, whose smile turned into a frown._

_ "Is there something you're not telling me, Ms. Benson?"_

_ Her eyes were hot with anger when she looked at him, but Elliot didn't care. "You're in pain, Liv. It's clear as day."_

_ The corners of her mouth were curling downward as she looked at the floor. It bothered her to admit that she was in pain. Revealing the truth probably hurt as much as the physical did, but he figured they had time to work on the emotional once she was healed._

_ The doctor stepped back in front of her. "We can't fix it until we know it's broken."_

_ Her head snapped up and she glared at him. "Are we at some sort of corporate retreat here? It is what it is. So can I go home now?"_

_ The doctor, apparently used to patients' mood swings, wasn't flustered. "What's bothering you?"_

_ For one moment the façade shattered and she spoke the utter truth. "What the fuck isn't bothering me?" She dropped her face into her hand for a moment, then sat straight up and looked at the doctor. "I'm having some pain."_

_ Pulling out his prescription pad, the doctor scribbled something down. "We might as well get an ultrasound. Just to check on everything." _

Before

Elliot didn't bother waking her when he left for work. She couldn't blame him; she was still pissed off at herself too. There was nothing she could do to change it. She puttered around the house, wasting as much time as she could. She wanted to avoid him, knowing that not only would he undoubtedly be holding a very large, very irritating grudge, but that the moment she looked at him, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from reliving those delicious moments on the couch when they'd been honest with each other and there was no bullshit between them.

Eventually, she was out of counters to wipe off and so made her way out to the car. It was a beautiful sunny day, exactly the type she never got to enjoy because she was always cooped up at the precinct working. The days when she got to be outside, those were always the cold, rainy days somehow.

She took a moment to revel in it, turning her face up toward the sun like a flower, eating up the warmth. For that brief time, her life didn't suck.

Then she felt it again, an unsettling, disturbing feeling. She looked around quickly, expecting to find someone there, someone who might explain why she was so sure there were eyes on her. But there was no one there, no suspicious cars or movements or anything. Just the creepy certainty that someone was watching her.

Shivering from a sudden chill, she got into the car and hurried to work. Uncomfortable as things might be, at least she was safe there.

The day flew by. She was so busy she didn't even have to notice if things were weird with Elliot. Munch and Fin had a new case, with a terribly traumatized victim. Olivia managed to make a connection with the woman, and even though she couldn't be involved in the case, she could be there for her. By the time the woman left the precinct, Elliot was long gone.

Although it was still light out, she found herself creeped out by the quiet as she walked to her car. In quite the paranoid fashion, she whipped around twice on her way out to catch the person watching her, but each time, she saw nothing. Nothing was amiss. No one was there who shouldn't be. There was nothing that should have been bothering her. Telling herself it was just because Elliot was angry, she decided she'd talk to him about it. They needed to find some middle ground before she scared herself to death.

She found him in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. "Hey."

He looked over at her with a smile. "Tough day?"

She nodded. "Long too."

"It's going to get longer." He looked away from her long enough to pour a box of pasta into the pot. "Eugeny called me. He wants us to come over tonight. Seems he's having another party."

"Great." She slumped back against the counter. "We're out of time anyway. Ellis is going to pull us off this Monday, right?"

"Might as well see if we get anywhere tonight." He nodded at the mess he'd made of the kitchen she'd wasted her morning arranging. "I figured the drinks are going to be flowing tonight so we should have a good dinner."

While Elliot was finishing up dinner, Olivia walked through the house, pulling the drapes closed. She saw the curious expression on his face when she came back. "I keep thinking someone's watching me. It's really annoying."

He smiled. "The whole point of this was to get people to watch us, wasn't it?"

"So you haven't noticed anything?" She pulled plates out of the cabinet, holding them while Elliot dished pasta onto them, then taking them to the table.

"Nope. I don't think they really care one way or the other. We must not be that interesting."

And they were sitting there, the two of them, having dinner in a perfectly mundane, boring fashion. No wonder she was feeling creeped out. The notion of leading a regular life with Elliot should have seemed terribly odd to her.

When they were almost finished, when it became clear that he wasn't going to mention it, she knew she had to. "Are we ok?"

He stared at her, holding her eyes for a long time before he sighed. "Aren't we always?" The tone of his voice told her they were anything but.

Playing dress up wasn't fun anymore. Neither was playing the happy, overtly sexual wife. Even if she hadn't been filled with the impending sense of doom that usually prefaced a huge blow up with her partner, she was tired of the whole thing. She was sick of the makeup and the heels and the tight dresses and spending too much time on her hair. She was even sick of the way Elliot noticed her legs in the short dress she had on.

She pouted out the window as Elliot drove, wishing she could go home to her house, put on her clothes, and curl up in her bed. But as he pulled through the gates of the enormous mansion of their hosts, her thoughts turned to the girls, to Halina and Marina who had suffered through such a horrible ordeal, to Anya who had been killed by the bastards having parties four days a week. The thoughts reigned in her desire to be somewhere else. She wanted to be there, however she needed to dress and behave, so she could nail Valentina and Eugeny and everyone else involved in the scheme.

Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, she held her head high while they were patted down and led into the house. Elliot was Edward once again, shoving the guy who patted her down and issuing a warning about touching his wife. At least they had been invited by the Simonovichs, which Olivia guessed helped them somewhat.

Rather than being led toward the dining room, they followed the guard up a staircase and through another series of doors. Finally they found themselves in a dimly lit room, where the guard nodded at them and left. There were people there, though not nearly as many as the dinner party, mostly grouped together around the multiple bars or couches. Gauzy white fabric hung from the ceiling, far too close, in Olivia's opinion, to the dangerous array of lit candles on every flat surface.

Glancing around, Olivia felt very much like she'd walked in on a make-out party, except that no one was twelve. She wanted to roll her eyes and laugh. Instead she thought about how she'd have to blend in, doing things she recognized were not a good idea with her partner. She heard the quiet sigh from Elliot as he came to the same conclusion. Earlier in the assignment, the act had been fun. Even the night before, when it hadn't been an act, kissing had been fun. But then, when they weren't on the best of terms, when their emotions were far too raw, it was going to be painful. Uncomfortable. Awkward. Things they needed to be able to hide if they didn't want to end up dead.

She wasn't sure they could pull it off.

Elliot turned to her with a fake smile on his face. "I think it's time for a drink."

"Make it a double." She was so nervous at the prospect of touching him again she could feel herself shaking. A drink would take the edge off. While she waited for Elliot to return, she tried to find someone she recognized. She spotted Kevin, the man who, with Robert's help, had talked her ear off at the dinner party. He was ensconced on one of the couches with a petite redhead bouncing happily in his lap.

Trying to pretend she wasn't embarrassed for them, she turned, gratefully accepting the drink Elliot offered her. "Wasn't Kevin's wife taller? And a brunette?"

Elliot was smirking as he nodded to the left, indicating Leslie, looking the way Olivia remembered, watching her husband while another man was sucking on her neck.

"Oh, thank god." She hadn't meant to say it; it had honestly just slipped out. She was utterly relieved that, among swingers, she wouldn't be expected to make out with the man who'd escorted her. The whole point was to hook up with someone else.

Elliot's face was quite carefully blank, keeping their cover safe for anyone looking, but his eyes were furious and hard. He knew exactly what she meant, that she'd been dreading what had seemed inevitable. Of course he wouldn't bother to think about it, about why the concept might unnerve her. He'd just decided it was an insult.

Damn Irish temper.

She lifted her glass, taking a long sip, almost choking on it. "What the fuck is this?"

"Gin and tonic." He was smirking as he sipped at his own. "Couldn't find any tonic."

"So what did you use? Lysol?" Judging from the smell, she wouldn't be surprised if he had.

He shrugged. "Mountain Dew."

Had they been anywhere else, she might have poured it over his head. Instead, she smiled stupidly at him. "Thanks, honey. You must have forgotten how much I hate gin."

"With the way these people are drinking, you're lucky there's anything left." He nodded toward the bars that had been set up, which were unmanned and featured a vast array of unmarked bottles. "I aimed for things I could identify."

She grimaced as she forced herself to take a sip of what tasted and smelled like furniture polish. "So I'm supposed to thank you for trying to poison me?"

"Better me than them, right?" He didn't bother glancing at her, because they both knew the answer. She knew he'd been trying to find the safest choice, and under the circumstances, Lemon Pledge appeared to be it. There was no telling what was in the other bottles and she seriously doubted it was anything as innocent as Tangueray.

Glancing around, Olivia tried to find somewhere to go, if only to get out of the middle of the room, but there seemed to be people everywhere, and they weren't talking.

"I'd say we should mingle, but…" Elliot's voice trailed off, as though Olivia were unaware that everyone around them was either having sex or about to.

"Edward! Sarah! So good to see you again!" Peter's voice was so welcome that Olivia didn't have to act at all when she accepted his hug.

Determined to make herself look like one of the bunch, she kept her arms around his neck, leaning in to peck his lips. "Petya, I'm so happy you're here."

When Peter extracted himself and shook Elliot's hand, Olivia was mildly amused to see the way Elliot was clenching his jaw. He didn't like seeing her with another man, but she figured it was only fair since she'd been listening to him talk about his wife forever.

"You should join the party." If Peter noticed anything strange between the partners, he didn't mention it. He just motioned for them to follow him, where he showed them through a doorway into another room.

It was more of the same story, but there were a few places to sit. Olivia sat down, immediately flanked by Peter and Elliot. Seconds had passed when a couple sat down across from them, their eyes sparkling with the promise of new friends. Olivia put on her game face and pretended to be enthralled with the cheesy, innuendo laden conversation.

Edward and Sarah had auditioned four different couples in what felt like the longest few hours of her life. Olivia had excused herself from the latest pair of insufferable brain dead nitwits to refresh their drinks. The Tangueray and Mountain Dew was growing on her, in a way she was willing to bet she'd regret in the morning, but she could only accidentally spill so many drinks before it became abundantly clear that she was faking it.

While she was waiting to grab the bottles, she saw Peter, who'd abandoned them earlier, sit down next to Elliot, leaning close to say something into his ear. She chuckled at the way Elliot jumped at Peter's proximity, loving how he was so clearly upset after having had several men offering to join them in bed. But she caught the flash of emotion on his face as he looked and so glanced in the same direction.

There were Valentina and Eugeny, finally having graced them with their presence.

As happy as she was that the night might not be a total loss, she felt a horrible feeling of dread. They didn't appear to be there for the party. They didn't appear to be having a good time either. Their faces looked mean and angry, though they did offer the occasional smile in the direction of the woman accompanying them. She was petite and quite strikingly beautiful, though the drab business suit and below the knee hem of the skirt were less than flattering.

Olivia forced a smile when the trio looked her way, turning her attention back to the liquor in her hand. Looking at them, knowing they were involved in horrible crimes, seeing how indifferent they were made her sick. She didn't like them. She didn't want to be around them. And if she had to be, she'd prefer to face them with Elliot at her side.

She hurried back to Elliot and the couch, throwing back almost half of the drink she'd just made. "Where's Petya?" She noticed his absence as she leaned against her partner's side. "And Ann and Tom?" It was odd that everyone had left, considering that Ann and Tom had no plans to leave when she'd gone to make the drinks.

Elliot's hand was sweating when he placed it on her thigh. "Petya asked them to leave with him. He said Eugeny would like to discuss a business arrangement with us."

She hated that her partner was nervous. She hated that she was nervous. One of them had to pretend to be confident. She smiled at him, pretending to be fascinated by his words. "What sort of business arrangement?"

Rather than Elliot's warm and welcome voice, Eugeny's thick accent answered her. "Mr. Grant, I am quite intrigued by your wife and would like to arrange a trade."

She felt Elliot's fingers curl tightly into her skin, but she couldn't be upset, not since her nails were digging into his arm through his shirt. She swallowed hard, suspecting Elliot would deck the man sooner than answer. "What kind of a trade?"

Eugeny glanced at her, as though she were quite amusing. "Do I have your agreement?"

Elliot leaned forward, letting go of Olivia's leg to grab his drink and have a sip. "Like the lady said, what kind of a trade?"

"I would have your lady," he smirked at the word, revealing exactly what he thought of Sarah, "for the evening. And in exchange, you may have your pick of the ladies here tonight."

Olivia was sure her heart had stopped. It took everything in her not to say screw it and run for the door. Forcing back her instincts, she faked her most vacuous expression and gazed at Elliot, waiting for the security she would feel when Elliot told Eugeny where he could shove it.

Elliot tipped back his glass again, pulling an ice cube into his mouth and rolling it around before spitting it back into the gin. "Any woman I want?" He glanced around as though he were weighing his options, a smirk taking up residence on his face as he reached out to shake Eugeny's hand. "Deal."


	13. Chapter 13

Part Thirteen

_After_

_The doctor moved closer to Olivia. "Where's the pain?"_

_She eased herself slightly sideways, pushing up her shirt to reveal her side, motioning at it with her hand. "Around here. Especially when I move."_

_Elliot took in a sharp breath as soon as he saw the skin there, mottled with purple bruises. No wonder she was in pain. She looked like someone had gone at her with a baseball bat. He had to look away; he couldn't stand the sight her of body so broken, even though he'd seen it looking worse. His lowered head did nothing to spare him. He heard the way she hissed when the doctor examined her. He clenched his teeth when the hiss turned into a groan._

_"Stop!" _

_His head jerked up at her shout, taking in the obvious signs of distress in his partner. She was panting, beads of sweat broken out on her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut as though that might help._

_The doctor stepped back, pulling out his prescription pad again. "I'm going to add a few more labs for them to check." He motioned at her vaguely. "It's most likely from some of the medications, but I'd like to get everything checked out before we try adjusting anything."_

_He tore off the scripts and handed them to Elliot, along with the one for the ultrasound. "She needs to have these done today."_

Before

She'd been angry at him before. But angry didn't quite do it justice anymore. Neither did furious, enraged, nor livid. Homicidal possibly came close.

Her mouth was hanging open, too flabbergasted by her partner's betrayal to even form words as Eugeny grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.

The older man noticed her resistance, laughing at her reluctance. "Your husband has made a deal. You would be advised not to argue."

She jerked her arm, feeling his fingers digging into her flesh. "My husband can go fuck himself. I decide who I have sex with."

Elliot climbed to his feet, sending an angry glare her way. "Don't be so rude to our friend, Sarah."

With her free hand, the one that wasn't locked in Eugeny's vice grip, she reached out, her hand connecting with Elliot's face. She wished she'd punched him, as it were the slap garnered enough attention, but she wished she had both hands free to strangle the man.

Elliot ignored her, his eyes turning to Eugeny. "Before you leave-"

Eugeny nodded at his wife. "Valentina will see you get your choice." He glared at Olivia. "Without argument."

Elliot smiled, his head nodding, his hand pointing to Valentina's left. "Her."

And suddenly, Eugeny's glare was pointed at Elliot. "Vasya?"

Elliot's smile grew, reading the obvious distress in Eugeny's face. "Vasya."

Olivia looked back and forth between the men who were staring each other down. She glanced at Valentina, who'd moved in front of the other woman. Whatever the hell was going on, she wished someone had clued her in.

Eugeny shook his head, fury radiating off him. "Anyone but Vasya."

"I'm afraid that wasn't our deal." Elliot was trying to hide the smirk, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. He looked at Vasya, letting his eyes linger on her, before turning back to Eugeny. "You said anyone. Vasya's who I want."

Eugeny tried to hide his displeasure, doing a marginally better job than Elliot did at hiding his smirk. "There isn't another woman here you would choose?"

He took the time to look around. And then he faced Eugeny with a shake of his head. "Vasya's the only one who even comes close to Sarah."

Eugeny's grip on her arm finally relaxed as he stepped backward. "I'm afraid then that our deal is off."

Olivia wanted to let out a happy sigh, to enjoy being free of the man's touch. But Elliot wasn't done, stepping into Eugeny's space and glowering at the man.

"Hey, we had a deal! You shouldn't have offered if you didn't intend to honor it."

Eugeny waved back the men who'd begun to take an interest in the altercation. He stepped back again, next to Valentina. "You should not ask the impossible." He glared at Valentina, then grabbed Vasya's arm and led her away.

Valentina forced a smile at Elliot. "You may stay and continue to enjoy the party. I'm sure Eugeny will get over his disappointment."

Still vying for his Oscar, Elliot dropped back into his seat with a scowl. Olivia wasn't acting in the slightest when she sat down next to him, daggers in her eyes.

He glanced at her, seeming to finally notice her fury hadn't been make-believe. "What?"

"What? What?" She forced herself not to smack him again, if only because she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop once she got started.

He checked around to make sure no one was watching before he flashed her a smile. "That slap – that was perfect." He reached up to rub his still reddened cheek.

"Just wait until I get my hands on a gun." She sipped at her drink, reminding herself that they were undercover. But she figured Sarah had every right to be pissed off and therefore acting like a royal bitch was perfectly acceptable.

His arm slipped around her shoulders, his hand on her arm holding her in place when he leaned closer. "Will you relax?"

Narrowing her eyes at him, she shoved him off. "Fuck you."

"Sarah-"

She didn't let him finish. She was too pissed off to sit there while he tried to pretend he hadn't just taken a huge fucking risk with her. There was no way he could have known that he could call Eugeny's bluff. He'd been guessing. If he wanted to play with his own life, that was bad enough, but her life was up to her. She grabbed her drink, sidled up to a random couple nearby, and pretended to give a shit what they were talking about.

She blew off his repeated attempts to talk to her over the next hour or so. But at some point, she realized that if she didn't talk to him, or at least pretend to, she was going to wind up having to be in physical contact with some of the lecherous weirdos who'd been hitting on her in frightening numbers once it became clear she was on the outs with her husband.

Plus the seat next to him was the only one available and she'd had far too much gin to remain on her feet for much longer.

Just as she was about to give up and sit down, Valentina appeared. She cleared her throat to get the attention of the room. "We are so pleased that you have been our guests this evening; however, we must ask everyone to leave now. We have much business to tend to early in the morning." She held up her hand as one couple stepped toward the door. "James will call your name when your car is available."

She didn't like that they were being asked to leave one at a time. There was something disturbing about the way the party dwindled, one couple after another, until only six guests remained. And then James stopped calling names.

Valentina seemed quite pleased as she looked around the room, smiling the sort of evil smile a cartoon villain might. "The rest of you are welcome to be our guests for the night."

Olivia knew they were in trouble. Certainly the only reason to keep them there was to watch them. And she absolutely didn't have it in her to keep up the act, not until the morning, not when the other two couple remaining were quite definitely going to be entertaining their hosts with raunchy exploits in the guest rooms.

Elliot stood, affecting Edward's obnoxious persona, not that it was much of a stretch for him. "I appreciate the gesture and all, but I've got work early, so Sarah and I will be heading home."

Valentina smiled, but didn't move from the doorway. "As responsible citizens, it would be wrong of us to allow our guests to drive after having imbibed so much alcohol. We must insist you stay."

"We're fine. Really." Elliot had certainly had his fill of gin, but he was pretty good at hiding the slight misstep as he moved to Olivia's side.

Olivia, on the other hand, wasn't expecting to be tugged forward, and so had no opportunity to hide the way she stumbled. Elliot tried to catch her, but wound up only grabbing her wrist as the rest of her landed quite heavily on the floor.

Mortified, Olivia batted his hands away when he tried to help her up. If Cragen or Ellis, or anyone at all saw how intoxicated she'd allowed herself to become while she was working, she'd have her ass handed to her. After they'd taken her badge. In fact, if Elliot hadn't been so drunk himself, he would have threatened to reveal it if only to get her talking to him again.

"You're not driving me anywhere." She reached out for the edge of a chair to get her feet under her. Elliot tried to help her once again, but she shoved at him. "Get the fuck away from me, you bastard."

Valentina was smiling, seemingly truly amused for the first time since they'd met her. "It seems your wife would prefer to stay." She nodded at James. "Help Mrs. Grant to a room, please."

She realized, as James' large hands were lifting her to her feet, that she'd just put herself in a terribly vulnerable position. But there was nothing she could do about it. Mutely, she allowed James to lead her away from Elliot, and whatever safety there was to be found in her drunken asshole of a partner. Even if she hadn't been drunk, she wasn't sure she could have retraced the complicated path they took.

And she was immensely relieved that James took her to a bedroom and left her there. She'd been afraid he might take her somewhere already occupied or even decide to join her himself. She wanted to stay awake, to stay alert for any danger, but the gin had a firm hold on her and she knew she wasn't going to stay up for long. She spent several minutes looking for a way to lock the door, so disappointed when she realized such a feat required a key that she nearly cried. Telling herself it was the gin making her overly emotional, she threw herself at the bed.

She didn't want to think about the sorts of things guests had done there. She didn't let herself ruminate on whether or not the sheets were clean. Assuming the Simonvichs had enough money to pay for maid service, she climbed in the bed and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. Someone was watching her, she knew. Though dulled by drinking too much, her senses were still attuned enough to recognize eyes on her. She closed her eyes and tried to shove the thought away.

She had nearly drifted off when she heard footsteps. Her heart raced, fearing that Eugeny had realized she was alone and was coming for her, when she was defenseless. She heard James' voice then, and she didn't think she'd ever been so happy to hear anything in her life.

"Mr. Grant, your wife is inside."

Knowing she was safe, the resentment welled up in her again. Son of a bitch. He thought he was sleeping with her? She didn't have a gun, but she had a pair of stilettos she'd be all too happy to castrate him with.

He was quiet as he stepped inside, closing the door and switching off the light. She felt the bed dip as he sat down, then heard the noise of his shoes dropping one at a time to the floor. Any more clothing off of him and she was going to sit up, spinning room and all, and let him have it.

And then the covers were lifted as he slid next to her. Her body was so tense she was shaking. He must have noticed. "It's just me, Sarah."

She snorted, pretending that his presence hadn't been quite welcome only a moment earlier when she'd feared it was Eugeny. "This is a fucking mansion. Isn't there anywhere else you can sleep?"

He sounded resigned as he sighed. "You're going to forgive me eventually, so you might as well do it now and spare us both the argument."

She didn't respond. He was right about her forgiving him eventually, but she had every right to be pissed off. Besides, she had no idea if he was speaking as Edward or as himself. It was too confusing right then. Maybe she could forgive him in the morning, when she could tell the two apart.

But then his hand snuck over, touching her back, making contact where no hidden cameras in the room could possibly see. It was Elliot speaking. "I know you're mad. But can I please just talk to you for a second?"

It was fear of breaking their cover that made her roll over to face him, at least, that was what she told herself. "Fine, talk."

He was lying there, watching her, his eyes burning into hers even in the dark. When he spoke, his hand slid down her arm, his hand closing around hers. "I'm sorry." His hand squeezed hers. "Really."

Silence reigned. It could very easily be Edward speaking, trying to make amends with his wife. His hand moved again, tracing the outline of her jaw.

"You know I'd never-" He trailed off, and Olivia wanted to believe it was because Elliot was having a hard time saying what he meant while pretending he was Edward. "You know me better than that."

She wanted to believe he was really speaking for himself, but she still wasn't sure. Not that she could stop herself from answering. "What if he'd agreed?"

His hand dropped back to hers. "That was never going to happen. Trust me."

Oh how she wanted to. "How can you know that?"

Though their voices had already dropped to near whispers, he moved closer, spoke even softer. "Because Vasya is his daughter."

She really wished she could see him better, rather than the dark outline on the pillow next to her. "How'd you know that?"

"Petya told me."

Peter hadn't said a damn thing to her about it and he'd been with them plenty long enough. Elliot could be lying, trying to cover his ass for having made a huge mistake. "When? When did he tell you."

"When they came in, while you were getting drinks. I didn't have a chance to warn you." He sounded so sincere. She wanted to believe him.

"I'm going to ask him and if he doesn't back you up, you'd better leave town."

He rolled away suddenly and she wanted to apologize for having said the wrong thing. But before she could find any words, he'd flipped on the light and climbed back into the bed. "That's better." He smiled, holding her eyes with plenty of light to see. "I would never put you in danger."

She bit her lip, searching his eyes for some indication of deception. She couldn't find one.

"I'm sorry I scared you." Again, she only saw honesty in his face.

Finally, she nodded, believing that he was telling the truth. "Ok."

"Ok?" He grinned, his face relaxing with the idea that she was forgiving him.

She nodded. "You're sorry. I believe you."

His hand closed over hers again, squeezing it on the bed between them. And then he stared at her, his smile fading as he held her eyes. "I love you."

Her eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't believe that he'd done it then, quite literally right when they'd gotten past their fight. He'd had to go and muddy the waters, speaking as Edward, who would probably be expected to say such a thing when his wife forgave him for acting like an ass.

Faking a yawn, she rolled over, turning her back to him. She couldn't face him, not then, not when one look in her eyes would reveal how much she wanted to hear him say that when he wasn't pretending to be someone else.

He snuggled up behind her, his whole body pressing into hers, his arm snaking around her waist. It took all of her strength not to start crying from the pain of having to be teased with something she wanted so much.

And then his lips were at her ear, his voice so soft she could barely hear it despite how close he was. "I said I love you, Olivia." He had to feel the shudder than ran through her.

She didn't know what to do. She needed time to think, to contemplate the idea that he was actually talking to her. She needed to be sober. She imagined she also needed him to be sober when he said such a thing in order for her to truly believe it.

And yet, she found herself speaking, not entirely because she knew it was expected. "I love you too, Edward."

She wondered how it was that he simply dropped off to sleep after that, but he had, leaving her to stare at the wall and wonder if whoever was watching them had any idea the damage they'd done.


	14. Chapter 14

Part Fourteen

_After_

_ Looking down at the papers, the only thing Elliot could make out was the word "STAT" written across all of them. That one word sent panic surging through him. The doctor was playing it down, but he was worried._

_ Elliot was beside himself, ready to sprint to the lab, wondering what the hell was taking her so long at the desk. She was just scheduling a follow-up appointment, making it a week later, as though they hadn't just been sent out to get tests that might change everything._

_ He'd been so happy when he'd heard she was getting out of the hospital. He'd thought she was on the home stretch. He'd thought she'd be fine._

_ And it had just been brought home to him how terribly not fine she was. _

_ Finally Olivia was done making nice with the receptionist, and Elliot was able to lead her to the door. As desperate as he was to hurry, he couldn't. Because it was clear that she was exhausted already._

_ It took forever for them to get to the elevator and back to the street. Elliot suggested that she wait for him to bring the car around, but he didn't get a step when a black van pulled in front of them. The door flew open, armed men in suits jumping out, grabbing them, shoving them inside without so much as a word._

Before

Work, especially his work, was never a place he might describe as fun. But being there with a hangover made it unimaginably hideous. It was still an improvement over being in a borrowed house with his even more hungover partner who, incidentally, had turned into a complete and utter bitch.

Her timing on that change, being precisely when he'd finally grown a set big enough to tell her he loved her, was spectacular. If he hadn't felt so shitty from the booze, he might have reminded her why he was so mad.

But she'd spent an hour praying to the porcelain god in the Simonovichs' bathroom before the sun came up and he'd been so happy they could finally leave that damn house he hadn't bothered. He'd ushered her out of there, whimpering and moaning, more or less threw her in the car and sped back home. She'd made a beeline for the bathroom as soon as they got in.

Besides muttering something to the effect of her getting what she deserved, he hadn't really spoken to her. She knew he was pissed, that much has been fairly obvious from the pathetic distraught way she looked at him from her spot on the bathroom rug.

He'd almost felt guilty, knowing how sick he felt, knowing how much sicker she felt, knowing she probably didn't even remember the conversation.

He'd told her he loved her.

And she'd fucking called him Edward. That couldn't have been accidental.

It hurt more than his head did. And that was saying something.

He dropped his face into his hands and wondered if he could make it all the way to the crib or if he was better off sleeping at his desk. Passing out at his desk won. It was easier. Besides, if anyone asked, he wasn't actually there to work. He was just trying to avoid Olivia.

But damn it, even as he was sitting there with his head down, only semi-conscious, he heard Cragen's voice, talking to someone he knew but couldn't identify, speaking her name. There was no place on Earth he could go to avoid her. Except for home, his real one. Which was a bad idea for so very many reasons. Not the least of which, he suddenly remembered, was that Olivia's name would undoubtedly be brought up there as well.

In fact, as bad as things were at any given moment with Olivia, they never quite descended to the level of his marriage. Of course, he was pretty sure that living with anyone, even Munch, would be easier than living with Kathy, especially when Kathy was being pissy and irrational.

With a groan, he pulled himself up and turned around, his timing perfectly coinciding with Cragen and Ellis coming into the bullpen. Something about the worry on their faces woke him up.

He jumped to his feet. "What's wrong?"

Cragen held up his hand as though that might calm his detective. "We're not sure anything's wrong."

"I'm glad to see that you're alright. Is Benson with you?" Ellis looked around for her.

"No, she's at the house. What's going on?"

Cragen grimaced and looked down, letting Ellis speak. "Peter missed a scheduled check in last night and we haven't been able to make contact this morning."

"He was with us at the Simonovichs' last night, but I didn't see him this morning." Elliot calmly reached for his phone. "I'll see if Liv has talked to him."

He tried to stem the panic, he did, reminding himself that she'd been sick and that if she'd managed to sleep, she probably had turned off her phone. Still, a sick feeling rose in his stomach when he got her voice mail. He disconnected the call and looked at the two captains. "She's not answering."

He didn't wait for them to respond. He simply turned and ran, the anxious feeling taking over, turning his insides to an uncomfortable mush. He couldn't move fast enough, running to the car took too long, speeding through the streets took too long. It felt like he was stuck in slow motion while the rest of the world sped up, one of those horrible dreams where he couldn't move come to life.

He was calling for her before he even stopped the car, screaming her name, not giving a shit who heard him. "Liv! Liv! Answer me!"

He was prepared to kick in the door and so he fell through the open door, landing heavily on the floor. He knew, if she'd missed his desperate screams, she certainly hadn't slept through him crashing through the door and knocking a table to the ground. Still, he got no answer.

He stopped calling for her.

For a moment the panic faded, his cop instincts kicking in, dialing Cragen. There in the middle of the living room floor was the reason they hadn't been able to reach Peter that morning. He was obviously dead, multiple gunshot wounds covering his white shirt in blood, more blood having spilled out and congealed in a puddle beside him. Elliot checked anyway, squatting down beside the man he'd been at a party with just the night before, feeling a cold nothing where there should have been a steady pulse.

Standing up, he found his rush, his hurry, was gone. There was Peter, a fellow cop, a friend under the circumstances, someone who'd been alive and well and sharing a drink with him the night before, lying dead on the floor.

He was in no hurry whatsoever to find Olivia.

Because she hadn't answered him.

Because he'd been mad at her.

Because he wasn't sure he'd survive finding her like that.

Still, he knew there was a chance that Olivia was not quite like that, that she was injured and maybe close to death and his dawdling might cost her survival. He headed for the hall, thinking that maybe she saw Peter shot and went for the gun that was stashed in the closet. But the bedroom was empty, as was the bathroom. He retraced his steps to the living room, hearing the sirens approaching, thankful that at least help was on the way.

Maybe she'd been cut off from the bedroom, he thought, maybe she'd gone for a weapon in another room. He passed through the dining room, sickened by the sight of four teacups sitting empty. Whoever had accompanied Peter and later killed him, had the balls to sit and have tea with him and Olivia first. Just more evidence of what a sick fuck they were dealing with. Sick fucks. There had been two other people there.

His heart pounded at the thought, once Peter was dead, Olivia had been outnumbered and unarmed. She'd probably been scared out of her mind knowing that she'd been made and that her partner wasn't coming to help. He approached the island connecting the dining room and kitchen, terrified that they'd taken Olivia with them, were holding her who knew where doing who knew what to her.

He heard the police at the door, announcing their presence. They'd enter and see a body and probably shoot Elliot without wondering if he'd been the one to call. He took the time to answer them. "Manhattan SVU. I'm –"

His words cut off, vocabulary failing him as he finally found her.

His muscles failed soon after, his legs turning to jelly as he crumbled to the floor next to her. "Bus! Call a bus! 10-13!" He had to assume she was alive. He simply couldn't deal with it otherwise.

She was lying on her side, facing away from him. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the cabinets, the refrigerator, the floor. Especially the floor.

"Oh, fuck!" Whoever it was that had arrived on the scene had found him, squatting down beside Olivia.

Elliot reached out, shoving at him, protectively shielding her body from someone who wasn't about to hurt her. "Get away from her! Get a damn paramedic in here!"

Leaning over her, he could see the knife in her hand, both the blade and the handle covered in her blood. He nearly threw up right there, thinking of her pulling a damn knife out of herself. He knew better, but he didn't care; he rolled her onto her back, trying to ignore the lifelessness in her body as he did so. Her head, her arm, her leg, flopping heavily onto the ground.

Her eyes were closed, blood smeared on her face and arms, seeping from her hands, gushing from her sides.

Gushing. Pouring. She was still bleeding. She was still alive.

He wanted to cry out in happiness.

Instead he stared at her torso, trying to figure out which one of the wounds was worse. The wound on the left side was in the front. The one on the right seemed more on her side. He vaguely remembered something about the liver on the left. He decided that one was probably worse, and so balled up his jacket, leaned his full weight on it, and tried to will the bleeding to stop.

He was shaking uncontrollably, trying not to see the defensive wounds on her hands and arms, blocking out the ideas of how scared she must have been facing a knife-wielding assailant without a weapon or a means of escape, knowing that they'd just killed someone in the next room. He stared at her face instead, mercifully free of cuts, though still splattered with blood. He wanted nothing more than to see her eyes open, hear her raspy voice make a joke about ruining her shirt, mention that he needed to lose weight cause he was hurting her from pushing so hard.

But she didn't. Her face remained stubbornly blank, her eyes closed, her voice silent.

He wasn't even aware of it when the bus finally arrived. He didn't know what they said to him. He didn't know how he got to the hospital. All he knew was that Olivia had been there, alive and in front of him and bleeding and needing his help, and suddenly, he was standing there in the chaos that was St. Vincent's emergency room, alone and scared and useless.

The doctor came out, talking to him, talking to Cragen who'd appeared out of thin air for all Elliot had noticed. He was saying something about a CT scan, about her low blood pressure indicating internal bleeding, about abdominal injuries being difficult to diagnose, about her next-of-kin.

He heard his own voice, but he had no idea how he was speaking. "She has a brother, but I don't know his number." Cragen piped in, saying that they were attempting to contact Simon. "I'm her emergency contact. Is there anything I can do?" He didn't know what he was expecting for an answer. He couldn't do anything then. He could have been there that morning, at her side where he belonged, preventing her from being stabbed, but no, he'd been off at work being pissy that she hadn't immediately reciprocated when he'd dropped a fucking bomb on her head out of nowhere.

The doctor smiled placatingly. "There's some paperwork you can take care of. I'll be back out as soon as I have the results."

Elliot snarled at him. Of course they wanted the paperwork completed. They had to know who was paying the bill before they could do anything. He'd turn over his future earnings if they could just help her already.

It only took a few minutes before the doctor was back in front of them, decidedly less pleased. "Detective Benson is bleeding internally; she's being rushed into surgery right now."

Elliot's heart dropped to his shoes. Somehow he'd thought that getting her to the hospital alive meant that she'd be all better. He'd figured that she'd be in a bed and complaining about hospital food by the afternoon. As bad as she'd looked on that floor, he'd thought they'd cleared a hurdle by getting to the hospital.

The doctor was walking away, already distracted by something else. "I don't have any more information right now. Someone will find you when we have news."

A nurse with cartoon characters on her scrubs appeared in the doctor's place, her own smiling face every bit as out of place as the happy creatures on her shirt. "You're here with Ms. Benson? I have some forms for you."

Elliot collapsed into a chair, accepting the clipboard because he didn't know what else to do. He stared at it, the only words typed on the page being her name. His blood stained hands reached for the pen, slowly, carefully filling in the blanks, hoping that by writing down her date of birth and medical history maybe he was somehow keeping her alive. It was ridiculous. It was crazy. But it was all he had.


	15. Chapter 15

Part Fifteen

Before

Her surgery took almost three hours. By the time the surgeon appeared to talk to them, Elliot was crazy with desperation. The surgeon's grim look didn't help matters any.

He offered a tight smile and shook Elliot's hand. "Detective Benson is in recovery right now and she'll spend the night in the ICU. Once she's stabilized, she'll move to a regular room."

Elliot's brain wasn't working. He didn't know what to say. "She's ok?"

The surgeon nodded, adding a shrug at the end. "I can't guarantee you that everything is fine because she lost a great deal of blood. Her liver was lacerated, but we got that bleeding under control quickly. Her spleen, that was a little trickier, it was ruptured and we had to remove part of it to stop the bleeding, but her vitals are strong and we'll keep a very close eye on her for the next few days. There's always a risk of infection after surgery, and of course, even more in stabbings."

"Can I see her?" All of the doctor's words were sailing right past him. He heard them, but couldn't make sense of any of them.

"She's not going to be conscious for some time. We're keeping her heavily medicated to allow her body to heal. She's had quite severe trauma."

"I don't care if she's awake." He did, really; it would make a huge difference if he could see her eyes open, but he'd take what he could get. He could see the doctor starting to shake his head, somehow thinking it would be better if Elliot didn't see her. He stepped forward, his face falling at the thought that he'd have to leave her there without seeing her again. "Look, I found her today! I need to see her not all covered in blood and practically on her deathbed. Please!" He didn't care if he made an ass out of himself. Not if it meant he could see her.

Finally the doctor relented, nodding slowly. "After she's moved to ICU. I'll make arrangements for a short visit." He stepped backwards, offering another tight smile. "Five minutes, ok?"

Elliot nodded, feeling relieved. He'd take anything. Anything.

He'd thought seeing her would make him feel better. She was in a hospital, after all, her wounds tended to, her body left to heal. Plus, the last time he'd seen her, she'd been bleeding and near death. So in a hospital recuperating had to be a step up.

Except it wasn't. She was lying motionless in a bed, tubes everywhere, monitors beeping, IVs dripping. He'd never seen her look so sick. Her arms were wrapped up in bandages. Her skin was pale. Her hand was cold, the part of it he could feel around the gauze that covered her wounds.

Somehow she looked closer to death. He didn't know how that was possible, but it was. And it frightened him.

He squeezed her still hand and forced words around the lump in his throat. "You have to be ok, Liv. I need you to be ok."

Home was the last place he wanted to go. He hadn't spoken to Kathy in days and, at the moment at least, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to talk to her again. Work was out though, because not only would Cragen certainly throw him out under the circumstances, but also because showing up at the office in blood soaked clothes was guaranteed to raise questions he didn't feel like answering.

Home was the only option, making him sorely miss those wonderful days when he could retreat to a house he shared with his partner. Not that those days had ended particularly well.

He called Cragen from the train, demanding to know if the fuckers had been arrested yet. Usually the murder of one cop and attempted murder of another prompted swift action. But Cragen disappointed him, reporting that no one could yet confirm that the Simonovichs had been involved and that considering it was the Russian mob, witnesses would likely die before coming forward.

It was already getting dark when he walked up the front steps of his house. He hadn't realized he'd been at the hospital that long; it had only been morning when he'd gone racing to find Olivia. The time of day wasn't the most disorienting thing about going through his front door though. He hadn't been there in over a week. And in that time, he'd somehow gotten quite used to going "home" to Olivia and the fancy place OCCB had set them up in.

He looked around the living room, at the tattered sofa, covered with a sheet as though that might keep people from noticing the fact that it was falling apart. He saw the coffee table with the broken leg and the rings left from kids who couldn't be bothered with coasters. He took in the cheap TV where the colors bled to green on the left side and the mismatched shelves holding up a pathetic collection of books he wasn't sure anyone had ever read. Swallowing hard, he looked down, finding dark brown stains on the once beige carpet. He didn't understand why they lived in such a dump. No, he wasn't a millionaire, but he worked enough overtime to account for almost a second person and Kathy worked full-time. With three incomes, they should have been able to afford nice things. Instead their house looked like shit.

Just one more reason he preferred the fake life he'd been allowed to taste.

He trudged up the stairs to the bedroom, deciding it wasn't worth the energy to look for food when he wasn't hungry. Kathy was sitting on the bed, her laptop in front of her.

She was so startled by his presence, she jumped. She put a hand to her chest and sighed. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!" She looked at him for a moment, taking in his blood stained clothes. "Don't even think of sitting down. Go put those in the washer."

He just stared at her. She wasn't even the least bit curious why her husband was covered in blood. She didn't care that he'd popped up suddenly after having been working around the clock for a week. She hadn't bothered asking if the blood was his. But he didn't have the energy to fight. Mutely, he grabbed a change of clothes from the dresser and went back downstairs to the laundry room.

It was far more than just the daunting prospect of climbing the stairs again that led him to settle on the couch. He'd spent the previous week on the couch, a far less comfortable one at that, but he would have happily gone back there. He closed his eyes and remembered the night before, when he'd gone to sleep with Olivia safe and healthy and wrapped in his arms, the crisp, clean scent of her shampoo tickling his nose, the sound of her soft breathing lulling him to sleep. It was quite possibly the best memory of his entire life.

There was never any good reason for the phone to ring at two in the morning. No one ever called to say they won the lottery in the middle of the night. Usually it was work, calling to tell him that he'd be witnessing the utter devastation of yet another life.

So it wasn't really all that surprising when Elliot was awoken from slumber to be summoned to the hospital. Except it wasn't Cragen or Liv on the other end, giving him sketchy details on a victim.

It was a Dr. Rosenthal, working the night shift in St. Vincent's ICU, calling to tell him that Olivia had taken a turn for the worse.

He was pretty sure he had too, what with his heart stopping and all.

Unlike the first trip to the hospital, he was acutely aware of every second that passed. He could barely get his hands coordinated enough to get his shoes on. He dropped the keys three times on the way to the car. The car didn't start for several minutes while he cursed the fates that he was driving a wreck. It took him more time to go back in the house and take Kathy's keys, not bothering to wake her and mention that he was taking her car. The driving took too long, somehow he got stuck at every light on the way and he couldn't run them because he was in Kathy's car, and not his own.

All the while, he was terrified. Dr. Rosenthal hadn't specified exactly what the problem was, but certainly it was pretty devastating if he was calling someone in the middle of the night. In Elliot's experience, someone in the ICU who took a turn for the worse didn't usually get better, but he couldn't think about that, he couldn't think that she might die. And even as he swore to himself that it was bad luck to even let such a thought cross his mind, all he could think of was that at least he'd told her he loved her before it was too late.

He bumped into Simon in the elevator, not even recognizing the younger man until he spoke.

"Detective Stabler?" He sounded unsure, as though he too could barely recall the other's face.

Elliot nodded, searching his memory for something familiar about the man and finding nothing. It had to be Simon simply because there wasn't anyone else the doctor would have called. "Did you hear anything?"

Simon shook his head. "No, they just said she wasn't doing very well. I was going to come and see her tomorrow, but then-"

His sister, half-sister, the only blood relation he had anymore, was in the hospital after having been stabbed and the man hadn't been able to visit her. Elliot snarled at him, wondering how it was fair that the bastard merited being her next-of-kin. Not that it really mattered, not when Simon spoke again.

"I, uh, well, Olivia and I don't really talk much." He paused, glancing at Elliot's blank expression for a sign of some sort. "So, I mean, I know why they called me and everything, but you know her better than I do. You know what she'd want and all, right?"

Elliot swallowed hard and broke off eye contact. He knew what the man was asking. But Elliot couldn't deal with it. Because he did know what she wanted. Because he knew what her living will said. And he'd be damned if he'd stand there and let some fucker turn off the machines keeping her alive if it came to that.

Elliot glared at Simon, the only outlet for his anger at the moment. "She's going to be fine, Simon." It wasn't a statement. It was a command, as though it had to be true simply because he'd spoken the words.

Simon bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, ok." He glanced down and toed the floor before looking back up. "But if she's not, I'll leave the decisions up to you."

He was filled with dread when the elevator doors opened. He hadn't really expected that Simon would be much help, hell, he wasn't sure Olivia had heard from him in two years. But he didn't want to be solely responsible for the decisions. Sure, he'd accept the blame for anything that went wrong no matter who agreed to it, but he would have liked to have Simon vehemently arguing something.

It scared him that Simon would just do whatever he said. Because he knew he would ignore her wishes and keep her alive no matter how little hope there was for her recovery.

Because he loved her too damn much to let her go.

It was wrong, he knew, to wish her stranger of a brother would fight her wishes. It was wrong to hate Simon for trusting him. Then again, his partner was in the hospital near death, so there wasn't much that wasn't wrong in his book.


	16. Chapter 16

Part Sixteen

Before

The hospital was eerie at that hour. Still busy and full of activity, but with no visitors, it was all nurses and doctors and beeping monitors. He felt anxious and out of place, but he didn't show it. He couldn't. Not with the way Simon was cowering behind him.

A nurse looked up from a chart as he stepped up to the desk. "Can I help you?"

He would have thought there was a limited number of people summoned in the middle of the night, but then again, it was the ICU. They called people with bad news all the time. He wondered how the woman could be so cheerful.

"I'm Detective Stabler, the doctor called me." He nodded at the mute man beside him. "This is Simon Marsden. We're here about Olivia Benson."

The nurse's smile faded, causing a cold shiver to run through Elliot. "Let me get the doctor."

He balled his hands into fists, pressing them into his sides, swearing he wouldn't panic at the nurse's utter failure to reassure him. Simon dropped into one of the chairs along the wall, a sickening pale overcoming his features. Elliot knew what he was thinking, he knew what he was refusing to think. The hospital never called to say someone was dead; they would only say it was an emergency and to get there right away. All that time he'd been racing to get there, thinking he might hurry up to arrive sooner.

It might have been too late all along.

She might already be dead.

He fell into the chair beside Simon, unaware that he looked just as pale and frightened.

Doctor Rosenthal looked like the sort of man who didn't know how to smile. And with the news he delivered, Elliot could see that he didn't have much occasion to. "I'm afraid Ms. Benson has developed an infection. We've started her on a strong course of antibiotics, but so far she has not responded."

Elliot say there dumbfounded. People got infections all the time. They took antibiotics and got better. Apparently that wasn't always the case.

Simon spoke up when Elliot didn't. "What does that mean?"

The doctor grimaced. "She's on the strongest thing we have and it's not working." He waited a beat, as though that might make his words softer. "Her blood work shows some problems as well. I'm concerned about her prognosis at this point."

Elliot had a thousand questions, but he couldn't form them. He say there instead, biting his lip, praying the doctor would have something to say that wasn't bad news.

Simon spoke, his normally sort voice weaker. "Can we see her?"

The doctor nodded, his demeanor completely different than it had been hours earlier. "She's not awake, but she'd be in a lot of pain if she were, so it's for the best." He backed away, inclining his head to indicate they should follow. "Take your time."

It was the worst thing he could have said. That afternoon he'd been kicked out before his five minutes were up. And suddenly it didn't matter how much time they stayed with her. She wasn't expected to live.

Elliot saw the weak smiles of the nurses, the ones who didn't dare meet his eyes. It made him sick to his stomach. He wasn't sure how much more he could take; he wasn't sure he could actually stand to see Olivia, knowing it might be the last time he did.

He stayed back, refusing to look, refusing to accept it.

Simon walked up to her side, taking her hand. "Hey big sis." His words faltered, not from emotion, but discomfort. He looked around, catching Elliot's eyes with an awkward smile. "So, uh, get better soon, ok?"

He stepped away, motioning toward the door. "I'm going to wait outside. I'm not good with sick people."

Elliot wondered how the hell the man made a living as a pharmacist.

With Simon out of the room, Elliot moved to Olivia's side. There were more tubes and wires than earlier and somehow the beeping sounded more ominous. He took her hand again. Rather than the cold feeling it had previously had, her skin was hot, clammy, revealing the high fever, the proof of the infection she was fighting.

While he knew the illness could have come from anywhere, even from someone in the hospital itself, his mind flashed to those moments in the kitchen. He'd touched her, tried to stop the bleeding. He hadn't washed his hands, such thoughts never occurred to him when he was trying to save someone's life, but with Olivia's life hanging in the balance, he couldn't help but wonder. Maybe he'd been the one to infect her, put germs on her body, expose her to something that might kill her. He'd never know for sure.

It didn't matter if he knew or not. He felt the guilt anyway. He blamed himself for the attack, for not being there when she needed him. He might as well take the blame for making her sick too.

He squeezed her hand, wishing he could feel the pressure of her returning the gesture, despite the fact that he'd hardly find an occasion to hold her hand when she was conscious. Regardless, he took comfort in being able to touch her at all, to revel in the feeling of her skin against his own.

The doctor had said to take all the time he needed. But it would take forever to say everything he needed to tell her. It would take forever to put the way he felt into words.

Or maybe not.

He leaned down, his lips pressing against her forehead. "I love you, Olivia."

Because, in the end, that was the only thing to say. And that said everything after all.

He stood there for quite a long time before he broke down and let go of her hand, just long enough to pull the chair from across the room up next to her bed. Once he was seated, he folded her hand back between both of his. He couldn't imagine why Simon preferred to hang out in the hallway or the waiting room or wherever he was, hell, he might have gone home for all Elliot knew, when Olivia was there, alive and in need of family as much as she ever had been. But Elliot didn't care, not really, because while he knew Olivia cherished her brother's existence, partners were closer than any blood relation. It was a lesson it had taken him a long time to learn. But he'd finally gotten it, finally understood what he'd never quite grasped, and nothing short of an act of God was going to drag him from her side, not when he knew any moment might be the last he'd spend with her.

Hours passed. Nurses came in, checked on Olivia, hung fresh IV bags, smiled politely at him while avoiding his eyes, their prayers that he wouldn't ask them any questions so obvious they might as well have been spoken aloud. Twice someone came in to draw blood, the woman's attention completely focused on Olivia to the point of not even acknowledging Elliot. He was fine with that, he wasn't sure he could take too much more kindness from them. Kindness from strangers always meant terrible things were happening and he didn't want to think about it.

Light started to filter around the blinds, followed shortly by a fresh batch of nurses. He felt he could breathe a sigh of relief, at least somewhat, since it always seemed that if people were going to die, it usually happened in the wee hours of the morning. And although it well could have simply been that he'd gotten used to it, her hand didn't feel nearly so hot as it had when he'd first touched it.

As luck would have it, a few minutes after the last nurse had left, Dr. Rosenthal appeared in the doorway. His eyes didn't dart away and his face was grim. He didn't bother with the blank smile meant to replace any words. Instead, he glanced at the chart in his hands and then stepped closer to Elliot.

Elliot didn't want to know, and yet, he couldn't stop himself from asking. "How's she doing?"

The doctor shrugged with a half smile. "She seems to be winning the battle with the infection at the moment. Her fever's down a bit and her blood work is improving the slightest bit."

He could have hugged the man, his relief escaping in an absurdly wide smile. "That's great news."

Dr. Rosenthal's attempt at a smile faded into a frown. "She's not out of the woods by any stretch. It just appears the infection is no longer her biggest obstacle."

His heart fell, reading something between the lines. "What's going on? I thought the infection was going to kill her? If that's getting better-"

"The blood loss she suffered from the stabbing caused a lot of trauma to her body. And I'm afraid the infection, as well as the antibiotics to treat the infection, are doing a lot of damage."

If he hadn't been sitting already, he legs would have given out. He didn't know what to say. The medicine was supposed to fix the infection and make her better. He couldn't deal with the fact that it was hurting her too.

Dr. Rosenthal bit his lip as he glanced at the paperwork in the chart. "I'm really very concerned about her health in the long term, if she survives this infection."

Elliot looked away, his glance falling from the doctor to his partner. "She'll survive the infection." It wasn't so much a statement as a plea. His voice dropped lower. "She has to."

Because if she didn't, he was going to climb in that bed beside her and die too.


	17. Chapter 17

Part Seventeen

Before

The doctor paused, offering a moment of silence as the only indication that he'd heard Elliot, but he wasn't about to let wishful thinking interrupt him for long. After he set Olivia's chart on the edge of the bed, he pulled back the sheet and blanket that had been carefully tucked around the mattress. With a sweep of his hand, he indicated that Elliot was supposed to look, rather than allowing his unconscious partner modesty by turning away.

But his eyes stayed glued to Olivia and what he saw when the sheet was removed took his breath away. "Oh my God, what the hell is that?"

Olivia's legs and feet were swollen, the normally perfect skin stretched and red and shiny from the fluid. He could only imagine how terribly painful it would be for her if she were awake.

The doctor examined her quickly, tucking her legs back under the blanket and looking back at Elliot. "She has a condition called azotemia, meaning that her BUN and creatinine levels are high. Along with the fluid retention, it looks like her kidneys are failing."

Elliot simply stared at the doctor, unable or unwilling to wrap his head around what he was hearing. "But she's healthy. She's fine. She got stabbed. How could she-"

Dr. Rosenthal raised his hand to stop the tirade. "Basically, between the liver laceration and the ruptured spleen, Ms. Benson lost quite a lot of blood before the surgeons were able to stop the bleeding. The loss of blood caused extremely low blood pressure, which damaged the kidneys. The antibiotics she needs now are damaging them further."

Elliot's mouth started to twitch, his chin shaking as he bit down on his lips. He wasn't going to cry in front of the doctor. He wasn't. It couldn't be true. The doctor had to be making a horrible mistake. Knowing words were beyond his capability unless he wanted to sob, he shook his head instead.

"I'm trying to maintain a delicate balance between giving her enough medicine to clear up this infection and not too much as to weaken her kidneys further, but it doesn't appear to be working. I'd like to call in a nephrologist to manage her case at this point."

Startled, Elliot looked up at the other man. The jackass was bothering to explain things to him while Olivia was in such terrible condition before he'd even bothered to call someone to help. He no longer cared if he made an ass out of himself. He was on his feet, in the doctor's face. "Why are you wasting time? Call whoever the fuck you need to, just do it now!"

Dr. Rosenthal nodded, picking up Olivia's chart and stepping away, apparently used to suddenly irate people yelling at him. "Mr. Marsden indicated that you were in charge of any decisions regarding Ms. Benson's care."

Elliot's blood started to boil, realizing that the prick had wasted twice as much time by giving Simon the damn information too. He didn't understand why the doctor couldn't save the time and trouble by only giving the information to his colleague, the one who might be able to help her. "Yeah, whatever, hurry up! Do whatever you have to do to save her."

The doctor started to make his way back to the door, pausing to look back one more time. "Acute kidney failure is usually reversible."

He didn't care what the doctor was saying anymore. He just knew the guy was wasting time, time Olivia's body didn't have to waste. So he glared, willing the man to move faster.

Elliot watched the clock. He spent hours watching the clock. He marveled at the fact that time appeared to be going so very slowly, the hands circling the dial so painfully slowly he wanted to scream, and yet, in the same moment time still seemed to be rushing past. He wanted to grab it, throttle it, hold it still and demand it cooperate. He wasn't a doctor; he didn't know shit about medicine. But he knew that when someone was sick enough for their organs to start shutting down, it was a slippery slope towards the end. And he wanted to cherish those precious seconds he had left with Olivia.

He knew, sooner or later, he would be asked to leave. She hadn't succumbed during the night the way they'd expected. And someone somewhere usually decided that sick people made out better when they were cut off from their family and friends. It was only a matter of time before he was ushered out the door and told to come back during visiting hours. He didn't know what he would do then, when he was unable to hold Olivia's hand in his, when he couldn't look at her whenever he wanted, when he couldn't stare at the gentle rise and fall of her chest and know that she was still there with him.

He thought it was strange then that he was ruing the time when they would be separated, but still didn't do those things he'd miss as soon as he left, the things he'd done during the night. Instead, he let go of her hand, spent more time staring at the clock than at her, ruminated on how uncomfortable the chair was rather than telling her how much she meant to him. Even as he wasted those hours, he wanted to scoop her body into his arms, pull her free from the machines, run away with her, take her someplace safe, be alone with her, the way they'd been alone together countless times over the years. His fear, his uncertainty, his desperation, his anxiety, worked in combination, telling him that Olivia was so very sick that his love stood just as good a chance of healing her as any conventional medicine did.

And at least then she wouldn't die in a miserable hospital that she hated so damn much.

A nurse came in, two IV bags in her hands, hooking them up to the machine, removing the nearly empty one, glancing at Elliot curiously as she did so. He tried to offer her a smile, but he was pissed off that she was there, interrupting the nothingness. Apparently she appreciated his presence just as much, because not two minutes after she left, another nurse came in to inform him he needed to leave.

He found himself unable to argue as he fought back the same urge to cry he'd had when the doctor was talking to him. Like he'd suspected, the moment he was being forced to leave her side, he wanted to stay, to cling to her hand, to refuse to go until she was awake and promising him that it was ok. Instead, he leaned over her, pressing his lips to her forehead, wiping away the tear that dripped onto her skin, hurrying past the nurse who'd made him go.

He didn't know where he was supposed to go. He couldn't go to work. He couldn't go home. He couldn't go anywhere. He didn't know what to do with himself without knowing that Olivia was going to be alright. He needed her to be alive and well as much as he needed his kids to be safe. And it frightened him that he couldn't do a damn thing to help her.

Elliot sat in Kathy's car, staring at the brick façade of the hospital, trying to think. His body gave up, finding enough comfort in the cramped seat to pass into sleep out of sheer exhaustion. He'd gotten exactly enough sleep to be utterly confused when he awoke to a persistent tapping on the window. He blinked sleepily at the outline of a stout, uniformed man. His eyes were so tired he couldn't keep them from slipping closed, even as the man continued knocking. His eyes jerked open again when the man shouted, though Elliot's mind was busy trying to figure out how he'd never before realized how very heavy his eyelids were.

Finally, through the haze, he understood he needed to roll down the window, if only to make the annoying tapping stop.

"You can't sleep in your car here, sir. You have to move." The nametag on his navy blue uniform said "Michaels."

But Elliot wasn't quite awake and he wouldn't have cared if he had been. "Fuck off," he mumbled, turning his face in the other direction and closing his eyes again.

"Move it along or I'll call the cops." The security guard almost certainly had bigger problems, but it seemed Elliot was the easiest one to solve. He had his radio raised to his mouth, muttering something into it.

Elliot turned back toward the man. "I'm a cop."

The succinct statement gave Michaels pause, enough time for Elliot to close his eyes once again. "Sorry, but you still can't sleep in your car."

Prying his eyes open again took all the strength he could muster and some part of his mind, the part that was clearly not as tired as his body, wanted to argue that it was most definitely more dangerous to send a half-asleep man out on the road than to have a cop sleeping in the parking lot, but the thought was far too complicated to voice and so Elliot opted for the second idea that occurred to him.

"Will you just fuck off already? Shit." He started to roll up the window, figuring that would demonstrate how he felt about continuing the conversation.

Michaels shrugged. "Have it your way, man. I'm calling the cops."

Elliot was tired enough that he actually managed to fall asleep before Michaels started tapping again. Rather than bothering to open his eyes or speak, Elliot gave him the finger and tried to ignore the noise.

Except Michaels somehow knew his name. And his voice had changed into one that was quite familiar.

"Elliot, unlock the car."

Giving up on sleep, Elliot opened his eyes, fully intending to take out his frustration and anger out on Michaels. But Michaels was gone. Cragen stood in his place, knocking on the window, the newspaper in his hand flapping with the motion. He pressed the button to unlock the doors and tried to think, as though there would be any decent explanation for why he was sleeping in the car outside the hospital where his partner was dying.

On second thought, he realized he didn't have to explain. There wasn't a damn thing Cragen hadn't already figured out; the man had been a detective after all.

He tried anyway, shrugging as the older man climbed into the car beside him. "I was too tired to drive home. Thought it'd be safer to sleep here."

Cragen passed him a coffee cup. "I figured you'd be here." He frowned, breaking eye contact. "Kathy called the precinct a couple hundred times."

Elliot shrugged again. "They called me in the middle of the night and told me to get down here right away. I didn't waste the time to wake Kathy."

Cragen's mouth opened, shock and concern reflected in his eyes. "Is she ok?"

Elliot looked away, hating to repeat the words as much as he'd hated hearing them. "Her kidneys are failing, which I imagine will be a problem if the infection doesn't kill her first."

"Jesus." Cragen shook his head. "You should have called me. I wouldn't have let you sit here alone all night."

He snorted, unable to hide his response at the idea of passing the hours with his boss. Not that he had anything against the man. "I wasn't alone. I was with Olivia."

"She's awake?"

Shaking his head, Elliot sipped at the coffee. "No, but she was there."

"They let you sit with an ICU patient all night?" Cragen was looking over his shoulder, checking to see if the hospital staff was ready to attack at any moment after Elliot broke their rules.

"They didn't think she was going to survive the night." He took another sip of the hot liquid, realizing he couldn't even taste it. "When she did, they kicked me out."

"Go home, get some sleep. I'll stay here."

Elliot shook his head. "I can't go home." Perhaps it was the exhaustion or maybe the fear that he was going to lose his partner, but the truth slipped out without him even noticing. "Kathy'll bitch at me about something ridiculous or make some snide remark about Olivia and I swear to God, Don, I'll kill her."

"Why don't you go back to the house then? Get some sleep in the crib. Come back later. Making yourself sick isn't going to help Olivia." Cragen swirled what was left of his coffee around the paper cup. He didn't know what else to do. He didn't know what to say, not when Olivia was so bad off. He didn't know how long Elliot could hold himself together. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Olivia didn't make it. He knew Elliot wouldn't survive it.

Once again, the truth fell out without any conscious choice. "I'm afraid to leave."

He didn't like the idea of being so far away from her, not when he could get another phone call any time, not when he could still lose her.

Cragen opened the paper and thrust it toward Elliot. "Just wanted to warn you about this."

Splashed across the fold was a photograph of Olivia, next to one of Peter. The headline read _Socialite, Friend Found Murdered_, under that in slightly smaller letters _Police have no leads in vicious slayings._ Elliot glanced at it long enough to catch the name Sarah Grant in the caption. He swallowed hard, trying to deny the idea that the article might be premature, but not entirely wrong.

"OCCB thought it would be best to keep up the charade. We figure the Simonovichs suspected something, but didn't have anything concrete." Cragen tried unsuccessfully to catch Elliot's eye. "Hopefully it'll keep you safe as long as you're not identified as a cop."

Elliot didn't see the point. First off, he'd relish the chance to come face to face with the bastards who'd killed Peter and tried to kill Olivia. And second, if he wound up dead, at least he wouldn't have to face the possibility of living without her. "If they made us, one stupid headline isn't going to protect me."

"Ellis lost one of his own. He's all over this. As soon as he gets any news, he'll tell us what sort of danger you're in." He dropped the paper onto the seat between them. "And hopefully, they'll assume Olivia's dead and she won't be in danger."

Elliot's eyes locked on the hospital once again. "Not from them, at least, not anymore." God knew, the Simonovichs had already done enough damage to Olivia.


	18. Chapter 18

Part Eighteen

Before

At Cragen's urging, Elliot went to the precinct to get some sleep. He hated the idea of leaving, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Not only was his boss' insistence a force to be reckoned with, but he was also too exhausted to argue. He'd spent many a day without sleep in his career, but the stress level on a normal day was much lower than with Olivia so sick. As it was, his eyes kept closing as he drove and he stalled Kathy's stick shift repeatedly because he kept forgetting he wasn't in his own automatic. Cragen had been right, however, because Elliot did feel a hell of a lot better, physically at least, by the time he returned to the hospital.

He was shocked to find Cragen still there, sitting outside Olivia's room with a slightly dazed "I've been in a hospital all day" look on his face. Normally Cragen would simply stop by to pay a visit to a sick member of the squad. The fact that he'd stayed all day made Elliot wary.

"Cap? What's going on?" He hesitated in taking the seat next to the older man, thinking he might need to jump up and run into Olivia's room as soon as he heard the answer.

The captain looked pained, his face revealing exactly how he expected Elliot would take the news. "Her new doctor gave me a lot of mumbo-jumbo, but basically she's not doing well."

It was a good thing he was sitting down because his legs would have given out. "What happened?"

Cragen shrugged. "Her kidneys aren't working at all-"

"They said that this morning. Did something change?" He was on his feet, not waiting for a response, ducking into Olivia's room to assess her condition himself.

"She's not in there." Cragen hesitated. "Her kidneys were working a little bit. But now they're not working at all."

The words stopped Elliot dead in his tracks. His heart stopped. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest, but slowly, he turned on his heels. "What?"

"Relax, she's alive." Cragen waited a moment, watching for his detective to take in the information. But Elliot didn't calm down. "They took her for dialysis."

Finally Elliot moved back to the chair and flopped down. "Jesus."

"Yeah." Cragen turned away, his face pinched in unhappiness. "He said poisons or something were building up in her blood. I don't know, it didn't make any sense to me. I don't speak doctor."

But Elliot wasn't listening. He just hung his head and wondered how the fuck he was going to survive losing her.

"Elliot Stabler?"

Elliot looked up, wondering what the old man could possibly want with him. "Yeah?"

A wrinkled hand was thrust in front of him, shaking Elliot's hand with a surprisingly tight grip. "Dr. Clancy. I'm Ms. Benson's nephrologist." He paused to put on his glasses as he took a seat beside Elliot. "Nephrologist is just a fancy way of saying I work with kidneys and such."

Elliot wasn't in the mood for small talk. He wasn't in the mood for much, and so barely forced the grimace off his face. "How is she?"

Dr. Clancy was a genial old man type, his gait uneven, his hair pure white, his voice rough, his speech slow. Under any other circumstances, Elliot would have felt bad for the old man who was either working because he had to or had simply not yet realized it was way past time to retire. But there was no room to feel for the sweet old man because Elliot had serious qualms about a man he figured was just this side of senile taking care of his critically ill partner.

Despite his outward appearance, there was something about the doctor's sharp green eyes that told Elliot he was wise to hold his tongue. He reminded himself that people probably felt the same way about Cragen, and so in deference to the man who'd left a few hours earlier, Elliot decided to give him a chance.

"Dr. Rosenthal attempted to fix Ms. Benson's kidney damage by correcting her dehydration and electrolyte imbalance."

"He said it was reversible," he interjected. Interrupting wasn't the same as not giving the man a chance, he figured. And it couldn't hurt to remind him of the fact, in case he'd forgotten.

Dr. Clancy's face folded into a frown as he nodded. "Often times, acute kidney failure is completely reversible. Unfortunately, that's only the case when the damage to the kidneys isn't too severe or long-term."

"But she was just stabbed yesterday and she wasn't even stabbed in the kidneys. She was fine before that." Elliot had yet to grasp the concept that disputing facts didn't change them. He and Olivia had argued that very point countless times.

Again the old man nodded, but Elliot realized it was in acknowledgment rather than agreement. "The body is a very delicate, extremely intricate machine. Neither of her kidneys was directly injured by the stab wounds, however, the trauma to her body was terribly severe and resulted in damage that with my forty years of experience, I highly doubt will ever be corrected."

Someone might as well of hit him in the head with a two-by-four. In fact, he kind of felt like someone had. It took a long time for him to even come up with a word, and voicing it took more strength than he had. "What?"

Dr. Clancy leaned over, tapping a finger to his ear. "What was that?"

Unable to speak quite so soon, he simply shook his head, knowing his distraught face revealed his feelings on the subject.

"I started her on hemodialysis this afternoon which is a process of removing toxins and wastes from the body like functioning kidneys would have done. She's hooked up to a machine which acts like an artificial kidney. She'll need to have it done three times a week." The doctor paused, letting his words sink in. 

It sounded ok to Elliot. He'd heard of dialysis before. Maybe it was something she could live with. "So she'll be ok? She can get this done and everything will be ok?"

"There can be a lot of complications, but it is possible to remain on hemodialysis for many years." Dr. Clancy shook his head, as though to warn Elliot off getting his hopes up too high. "Not all patients do well on dialysis. In many instances, it can simply prolong a natural death."

And then, Elliot was sure, someone had hit him with a two-by-four. Not just once. Many, many times. All at the same time. He sniffled, feeling the tears gather, unashamed to cry in front of the doctor for some reason. "She's still going to die?"

"She's been comatose since this morning. It could be her body trying to heal itself or it could be her body giving up. Our only option right now is to see how the dialysis goes. If she responds well –"

"What? How long does it take? She's been there for hours!" Elliot was ready to hit someone, thinking that Olivia had been sitting forgotten in a hallway somewhere when she needed to have help.

"It takes about four hours, she'll be back in her room shortly." Dr. Clancy waited a beat for Elliot to calm down before returning to his previous thought. "If she responds well to the dialysis, then it's always an option that she can remain on it indefinitely."

Elliot could feel it hanging in the air. "But?"

Dr. Clancy took a deep breath. "There's no guarantee that it will work. It might be that her kidneys are the first organ to shut down and that the process will continue despite our efforts."

Elliot squeezed his eyes closed, trying to make the words go away. "But she's strong and she's healthy and she's a fighter. She has to get better." He'd said the same thing to the previous doctor to no avail, but it didn't change how he felt. He'd never met a stronger, more determined person than Olivia. If Olivia couldn't get better, no one could.

"Hopefully you're right." Dr. Clancy nodded, a faint smile curving his lips. "If we can get her out of the woods, her best chance is a kidney transplant. Does she have any family who'd be willing to donate?"

He was pretty damn sure he heard the voice of god, actually giving him specific instructions on what the fuck he was supposed to be doing with his life and why he'd been born. He smiled. "Me. We have the same blood type."

Maybe, just maybe, there was something he could finally do to convince her of how much he loved her.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something he could finally do to repay her for everything she'd done for him. She'd saved him a million times.

Maybe he could save her this once.


	19. Chapter 19

Part Nineteen

Before

Dr. Clancy looked at him carefully, studying him in much the same way his priest always did. It unnerved Elliot, half expecting the doctor to send him off to say the rosary. Instead, the old man nodded. "Donating an organ is no small thing. It's major surgery and you're jeopardizing your health for something without a guarantee. It might not work."

Elliot nodded, his mind made up, ready to sign whatever he needed to sign. "How soon can we do it?" Fuck, he'd go lie down on the table right then if it was an option.

Chuckling, Dr. Clancy patted Elliot's shoulder. "Now, now, it's not a quick process. With a living donor, we have the option of taking our time and planning things carefully."

"But why take our time? She's sick. She needs a kidney. I've got two. Let's go!"

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr. Stabler, but I'm afraid that's not the way it works." Dr. Clancy stood up, offering his hand to shake once again. "I'll get the ball rolling here, but you need to be prepared for this to take some time."

Concerned, Elliot jumped to his feet, not sure if bullying the petite doctor was a good thing or not. "What kind of time?"

"There's testing to be performed, meetings to be had. We have to dot our i's and cross our t's." He stepped back, motioning vaguely toward the corridor. "The nurse will be by in a little while to draw some blood. That's the first step. You'll be here for a while?"

Elliot nodded eagerly, satisfied that something was being done. "And then what?"

"All in good time, son." The doctor shook his head, amused at something Elliot didn't understand. "Spend some time with your wife."

Elliot stared at the man as he shuffled back the way he'd come, wondering what the fuck Kathy had to do with any of it. He only realized as the doctor spoke briefly with the orderlies pushing the stretcher that he'd assumed Olivia was his wife. But he didn't care about correcting the mistake. Not when Olivia was only a few feet away.

As promised, someone came by within the hour. However, she wasn't a nurse and she wasn't trying to draw blood. Her name was Terry and she introduced herself as a social worker. Elliot didn't even listen to her spiel; he immediately decided she was there for one of two reasons. Either she was some sort of a liaison for the police department, trying to sniff out Elliot's relationship with his partner or she wanted to talk him out of saving his partner's life.

No matter her purpose, Elliot wasn't interested in helping her. He snarled at her smile, refused to shake her hand, and spent the time she was talking staring at Olivia.

Terry got the message fairly quickly and stopped her explanation mid-sentence, not that Elliot was paying enough attention to notice. "Mr. Stabler?"

Elliot realized she'd stopped speaking and so looked up, anticipating that she was about to leave. "Anything else?"

She wasn't smiling when she stepped forward, dropping a stack of papers that Elliot had assumed were case files onto the edge of Olivia's bed. "You should know, sir, that a social worker is an integral part of the transplant team and that their recommendation is required for a transplant to be approved."

He swallowed hard, understanding that he'd made a mistake, fearing his attitude might have cost Olivia's life. "I'm sorry," he stuttered out as his cheeks reddened. "Dr. Clancy said a nurse would be coming in, so when you showed up instead, I thought he'd decided against the transplant."

Terry stared at him, considering his words and his face. "I assume Dr. Clancy didn't get into the specifics of a living donor transplant." She smiled softly.

Elliot smiled back, happy to be forgiven. "No, he didn't."

The smile turned into a snarl. "That's what I'm here for and you'd know that if you'd bothered to listen."

Feeling like an ass, he looked down at the pile of papers Terry had dropped. "I'm really sorry." He motioned toward Olivia with one hand. "I'm under a little bit of stress right now. Thirty-six hours ago, she was perfectly fine." He waited for a moment, for Terry's face to soften the tiniest bit. "And then some bastard who wanted to keep trafficking in teenage girls as sex toys tried to stab her to death. So you see, I'm a little off my game right now."

He bit his lip as soon as he spoke. He'd gone too far, said too much. Had Olivia been conscious, she would have stopped him, elbowed him or kicked him or shoved him out of the room to keep him from doing something so dumb. Without her, he was lost.

Terry's eyes were wide and she nodded, so shocked by the story that she didn't care that she shouldn't have heard it. "I'm sorry too." She nodded at the papers. "There's some information for you to look over, some forms to fill out, and some resources for you, if you want to use them. My card's in there also, you can call me whenever if you want to talk."

She hurried toward the door, seeming as afraid of Elliot as of someone coming to finish the job on Olivia. "They will take your blood and start testing it, but we'll need the paperwork back before we can really get the process underway."

The hospital staff was decent enough to him to let him hang around until they drew his blood. But within seconds, he was tossed out with the declaration that Olivia, coma or no, needed her rest. Elliot took the stack of paperwork Terry had given him and headed for Kathy's car. He dreaded going home. He dreaded explaining where he'd been overnight. He dreaded having to witness the utter lack of compassion on Kathy's face when he reminded her of the blood stained clothes he'd abandoned in the washer.

Knowing his wife, she was more likely to be upset about having to wash Olivia's blood off his clothes than about a woman she'd known for nearly fifteen years lying near death in a coma.

It was perverted, he knew, but he found himself actually looking forward to telling Kathy he planned to donate his kidney to save Olivia's life. If only because her response would answer every question he'd ever had.

The house was dark and quiet when he pulled into the driveway. He checked his watch, realizing it was much later than he'd thought. Just as well, he grumbled to himself, he wasn't really anticipating that the confrontation with Kathy would turn out well anyway. He turned on the living room lamp, grabbed a soda from the kitchen, and then settled down on the lumpy couch to look over everything.

In two hours, he'd divided the papers into three piles. There was a stack of papers he'd need a translator to understand, a stack written to explain the process on a three-year-old's reading level, which he ruefully admitted was somewhat helpful, and a small mountain of things he needed to fill out. He ignored the first pile because he didn't have a prayer of understanding it. He flipped through the second group, acknowledging that he should learn something about the process simply to prevent someone from shocking him with details he might not have anticipated. He turned the house upside down searching for a pen that actually worked, then he focused his attention on the final mountain of forms and started writing. They were the most important, the ones that would result in helping Olivia, and therefore the ones that required his consideration.

He'd had no intention of falling asleep, but he did. Face down on one of the forms he was filling out. He sat up with a crick in his neck, rubbing at his shoulder to loosen the muscle, moving to rubbing the drool off the paper he'd need to turn in. Groaning to himself and feeling the pain of sleeping like he had, he shook his head and went back to writing. The forms weren't going to fill themselves out, and as irritating as it was to write down his entire medical history, he wasn't about to waste time.

He hadn't written more than two words when he realized why he'd woken up. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Someone was watching him and he knew none of his kids were that quiet. He looked up with a sigh, finding Kathy standing before him in her pajamas, holding the stack of incomprehensible medical shit. "You shouldn't sneak up on someone who's armed."

"I didn't sneak up. I've been standing here for twenty minutes." Her voice held all the irritation of someone who hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep.

He shrugged, turning his face back to his papers. No time like the present, he figured. Besides, the fact that there were sleeping kids in the house might help Kathy keep the screaming to a minimum.

"Don't you have anything to say?" She slapped the papers down on the coffee table before him as though they were photos of him kissing Olivia.

He stared at them, wishing they were, then he looked back at her. "You obviously do or you wouldn't have been standing there for twenty minutes."

"Living organ donation? What the fuck are you doing?" Her hands went to her hips, her frown so deep it would probably leave a mark.

Unlike his angry wife, Elliot kept his voice down. He didn't give a shit what she said; it wasn't her decision. "Olivia is dying. She needs a kidney."

Kathy scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. "What the fuck is the matter with you?" She'd either forgotten or stopped caring that her kids were in the house as her voice raised to a shout. "You're donating a kidney? Why?"

He was pretty sure the look on his face told her what he thought of the conversation. "What the fuck is the matter with you? She's dying, damn it!" He stood, the papers falling forgotten from his lap. "Olivia is going to die if I don't give her a kidney. You think I'm just going to sit here and let her go?"

Kathy folded her arms over her chest and took a deep breath, the same way she did when one of the kids was bullshitting her. "This is something we need to discuss before you go signing anything, Elliot."

"What?" Frustrated, he scrubbed his hands over his face. "No, I don't think so. I don't need your permission for anything, let alone this."

"You're my husband. It's still something we need to talk about as a family."

"What the hell does this have to do with my family? This has to do with my partner, my friend, who is dying! What part of that aren't you getting here, Kathy?" He ground his teeth together, wishing there was something he could hit.

Kathy moved in front of him, narrowing her eyes. "What if one of your children needs that kidney someday? Huh?" She paused as though she expected an answer, but continued before he possibly could have responded. "You'll just say 'hey, sorry, I gave it to my girlfriend a few years ago.' Hell, we all know you love her more than you love us!"

Shaking his head, he bent down to collect the papers that had fallen. She made a valid point there, about the fear that one day his children might need him. And there was no point in denying that he loved Olivia; he was signing up to give her a kidney, after all. He stood up, shoving all the papers back into one stack and shrugging. "I will never love anyone as much as I love my kids, Kathy, but they'll probably never need a kidney. You think I should just let Olivia die and save my organs for some stranger when I'm gone?"

Kathy nodded. "If you loved you kids you would."

Elliot leaned into her face and snarled. "This has nothing to do with loving my children. This has to do with-"

"Loving Olivia. I know." Kathy stood her ground snarling back at him. "If you dare go through with this, Elliot, we're done. I mean it."

Elliot nodded, scooping up his pen and half drank soda, shuffling the papers to one side. "Fine. Just tell me where to sign."

He walked out the door, only pausing long enough to grab his keys from the table by the door.


	20. Chapter 20

Part Twenty  
Before

By the time he'd made it to his car, he realized he should have at least grabbed a change of clothes. There was no way he could walk back inside then and he was too furious to sit around until Kathy left. He chose to drive instead, the early hour allowing him the freedom of pressing the accelerator quite heavily. He picked directions randomly, turning whenever the notion struck him, having no intention of arriving anywhere in particular.

When his anger was spent, he pulled to a stop outside an old church. It wasn't one he'd ever been to, and perhaps it was that very anonymity which allowed him to get out of the car. He didn't know what he was doing, had no idea what he meant to do. He strode up to the wooden door, pulling lightly, expecting the doors to be locked up tight considering that it wasn't yet dawn.

He decided it was a sign from God when the door pulled open easily. There was still no plan in his head as he stepped inside. His footsteps seemed loud in the silence, but he made his way through the vestibule, blessed himself with the holy water and slid into the last pew. He'd gone to church all of his life, defended his beliefs to anyone who dared argue, firmly believed the tenets he'd been taught as a child. Throughout his adult life, he'd turned to his faith for help. He regularly talked to his priest for guidance, which, he belatedly understood, was what he'd been seeking when he went there.

But he didn't think his own priest would help. He didn't want to talk to someone who'd always known him as a husband and father, someone who would look at him and see his family. He needed someone who could weigh both sides and not automatically chastise him the way he was afraid his priest would.

"Good morning."

The words startled Elliot and he turned to look at the man who'd snuck up on him. He was a young man, at least ten years his junior, probably more, skinny and pale, with dark eyes that seemed to recede into the shadows. Had it not been for the white collar in the man's starched black shirt, Elliot might have thought he was about to be mugged. It wasn't quite the counsel he'd been seeking. He'd been expecting something along the lines of Dr. Clancy, a sweet, pudgy grandfather type who could offer Elliot wisdom.

Without waiting for a reply, the priest genuflected and took a seat in the row in front of Elliot's pew. "Don't feel bad, you're not who I was expecting either."

Shaking his head, Elliot schooled his surprised features back into a neutral expression. "I wasn't expecting the door to be unlocked."

The priest nodded. "We leave it open in case someone needs refuge. Usually it's bums or working ladies looking for a place to sleep."

"I don't need refuge." He paused, thinking maybe he did. Maybe hiding out in the church for the rest of his natural life would make all his problems go away. But then he shook his head, realizing Olivia would go away, not his problems. "I don't even know why I'm here."

Reaching over the back of his pew, the priest extended his hand. "I'm Father Gabriel. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

Elliot shook the man's hand and then stared up at the stained glass window behind the altar. "I think I just left my wife."

Gabriel looked amused. "But you're not sure?"

"Olivia needs a kidney or she's going to die and my wife said if I donated mine, then our marriage is over." He sighed and sat back, slouching down against the uncomfortable wood. "I'm not just going to let her die."

His face revealed confusion as he tried to understand, but eventually Gabriel gave up. "Who's Olivia?"

My world. My life. My love. Elliot ruefully wished he could have said those things to her when she might have believed it, whenever the hell that was. "I'm a cop. She's my partner."

"A kidney is a pretty big deal." Gabriel nodded. "But then, so is a cop's partner."

"She's been my partner for almost fifteen years. She's my friend. She's saved my life more times than I can count. And I lo-" He stopped short, figuring mentioning that last part would only get him in trouble. Just like Kathy, priests were hardwired to believe that marriage outweighed everything. Elliot had felt the same way back in the day. But then he'd discovered that life wasn't so cut and dried.

Gabriel heard enough anyway. "You love her."

Gulping and waiting for the inevitable disappointment, Elliot nodded. In the silence that followed, he decided he needed to explain, if only to keep the priest on his side a little while longer. "I never cheated on my wife. Things have been strained for a long time. We almost got divorced a few years back. But things with Kathy have always been so hard and with Olivia, it's just different, you know?"

It wasn't the best choice of words, but they were already out there. And it was the truth. The fact of the matter was that he'd had to fight for anything resembling normal with Kathy, he had to hold his tongue, censor his words, deny his thoughts. Olivia had been comfort from the first moment they'd met. Even when they were fighting, he felt better being around her.

"Kathy and I were thinking about getting divorced again even before I realized how I felt about Olivia."

Gabriel nodded. "You don't have to defend yourself. I don't think you meant for it to happen."

Elliot smiled, staring at the younger man in shock. If he'd been at his own church, he'd already have been sent home to make peace with his wife. "Kathy's angry that I'm not going to save my kidney for one of my kids in case they ever need it."

"But Olivia definitely needs it and she needs it now?" Gabriel was smiling, offering no reproach.

Elliot almost wanted to hug him. "Yeah. She's in a coma on dialysis. She was stabbed on a case and she's going to die unless I help her." Tears formed in his eyes, but he stubbornly blinked them away. She wasn't going to die. He wasn't going to let her. He was going to save her. And there wasn't anything Kathy or anyone else could do to stop him.

Gabriel turned away, giving Elliot a chance to wipe at his eyes in private. "It sounds to me like God put you in her life so you'd be there when she needed you."

"We talked about it once." Elliot grinned at the recollection. "We'd run across a perp who gave his wife a kidney before he went to prison. We were just talking and realized we had the same blood type. So I said I'd give her a kidney and she said she'd do the same."

"I think you have your answer then, don't you?"

"Yeah. I just don't know what the question is." Or perhaps more accurately, he only had one answer and a thousand questions. "Thank you for listening, Father."

Gabriel offered his hand once again. "Thank you for coming in. Usually, I'm trying to reassure people whose biggest worry is where they'll get their next drink."

Elliot shook the priest's hand and headed back outside. It was just after dawn, the sky starting to lighten to a violet shade. Too early for the hospital staff to let him in, but he was willing to bet Captain Cragen had already downed one cup of coffee and was sitting at his desk thinking about getting another. Besides Kathy, Cragen was the most affected person by his decision and therefore the second most likely to have objections to it. But with God on his side and Olivia's life on the line, Elliot figured Cragen wouldn't fight him on it.

He felt like he'd accomplished a lot in a short amount of time. He'd talked to Cragen, dropping the bomb that he was going to be taking off six weeks once the surgery was actually scheduled, he'd finished filling out the paperwork, and he was pacing outside Dr. Clancy's office with everything, waiting for the doctor to arrive for work. While he was waiting, he reread some of the stuff Terry had given him. One of the pamphlets listed all the ways he needed to be ready to donate a kidney: intellectually, emotionally, physically, financially, and spiritually. Although he'd argue that he'd been ready the moment he heard the word transplant, he felt a little better to be able to legitimate cross spiritually off the list. He'd talked to a priest; that had to count for something. As for the rest, he figured, he was absolutely not ready to lose Olivia, and therefore, he was ready to do whatever he needed to save her.

Dr. Clancy seemed rather surprised that Elliot was already there, papers in hand, when he arrived. He barely glanced at the forms, mentioning that his staff would review the information for him. Sitting down at his desk, he picked up his phone and requested a consent form from someone.

Elliot was thrilled to hear it. It sounded like something was actually moving forward.

But once the phone was back in its cradle, Dr. Clancy mentioned another obstacle. "Before we're able to find out if you're a match, we'll need one more paper signed. Ms. Benson's next of kin will need to permit us to test her blood against yours. You're her husband, correct?"

Elliot swallowed hard and wished he could just lie. "No. Her brother is her next of kin, but he said he'd go with whatever I decided."

Dr. Clancy offered a tight smile. "You didn't happen to get that in writing with a witness, did you?" Elliot didn't bother to respond. "Terry will have to get in touch with him and get his formal permission before we do anything else."

"But you know he's going to give it, so can you go ahead with the testing anyway? It's just some red tape, right?"

"Might help if you call him. Have him come in. It'll speed everything up." In a few words, Dr. Clancy had gone from genial to ornery.

A young woman popped in, handing a thick form to the doctor.

Elliot held out his hand, anticipating Dr. Clancy would turn it over. "I'll take it to him."

Dr. Clancy shook his head. "We'll need to discuss the procedure with Mr. Benson in person."

He'd had every intention of forging Simon's signature, but he didn't like that the doctor had known it and was going to stop him. "It's Marsden. Simon Marsden. He's her half-brother. They've only known each other a couple years." The doctor didn't give in like he'd hoped. "He lives out in Jersey, but I'll have him come in right away."

Grumbling under his breath, Elliot was dialing the number before he even got out of Dr. Clancy's office. Shitty as the situation was, he didn't expect there would be any problem in getting Simon to sign his consent. Hell, the man had already completely washed his hands of Olivia's care. Elliot's biggest hurdle, he guessed, would be convincing the younger man to battle the rush hour traffic into Manhattan.

Unfortunately, he'd guessed wrong.


	21. Chapter 21

Part Twenty-One

Before

Surprisingly, Simon had no problem with driving into the city. He felt bad, he revealed to Elliot, that he hadn't really stayed in touch with Olivia since they'd met. Elliot didn't really care about comforting the obsequious man, but he was willing to say or do anything he needed to for Olivia's benefit. So Elliot promised him that Olivia hadn't been offended by their lack of contact and continued soothing Simon's ego until he was in the car on the way.

When he arrived at the hospital, they went through the forced pleasantries of two complete strangers while Elliot guided Simon to Dr. Clancy's office. At the doctor's insistence, Elliot waited outside while Simon was brought up to speed on the matter. He was patient. At least, he tried to be. Mostly he was pacing or tapping his foot or glaring at the closed door, all the while wondering what the hell was taking so long. The situation seemed fairly cut and dried to him. Olivia was sick. Olivia needed help. Help was available. Simon needed to sign the paper so Olivia could get help.

Moments before Elliot was about to barge through the door and demand to know what was going on, Simon emerged. He was holding the consent form in his hands, biting his lip as he folded it in half to stick in his jacket pocket. For the briefest of seconds, Elliot gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming it had been his copy of the consent form. Simon glanced at him, offering a weak smile that faded before his eyes darted away.

Dr. Clancy tried to slide out behind Simon, beginning his slow journey down the hall away from Elliot.

The fact that neither man would meet his eyes told him there was a problem.

"What the hell is going on here?" Elliot wasn't sure who to go after, but he opted for Simon.

Simon shrank backwards, wincing and saying nothing.

Clancy turned around, giving up his escape attempt. "Mr. Marsden has requested a little time to think about what's best for his sister."

Elliot's eyes narrowed. He told himself that losing his temper in front of Olivia's doctor would hurt her in the long run, but it took everything he had not to hit one, or both, of them. "Sister? What's best? What the fuck is the matter with you? She needs a fucking kidney!"

Simon shrugged, reminding Elliot of a weasel as his eyes darted around looking for a place to run. "She's already so sick. Surgery and a transplant would be so much more pain and suffering and I don't know if that's what she would want."

He couldn't help it. He couldn't stop it. Jesus couldn't have stopped him right then. Elliot's hands reached out, wrapping around the lapels of Simon's jacket, shoving him back into the wall. "Do you think she wants to die?"

"She's in a coma. She's practically dead already. I don't want to drag out the pain she's in." Simon's voice dropped to a whisper.

"She's not dead! She's not in pain. She can get better from this and be good as new! You barely even know her! Where do you get off thinking you know better than I do what she wants?" Elliot's hands were shaking, barely able to hold back the urge to strangle the man.

"She's my sister. It's up to me."

Elliot was so shocked by his words that he actually let go. "What the hell? You've known her for three years. I've known her for fifteen." His hands balled into fists and he seriously considered punching something. A man, a wall, just something. Hitting something would make him feel better. "You said you would leave the decisions up to me. You said you didn't know her well enough to know what she'd want."

"You're too close, Elliot. You're thinking about what you want, not what's best for her." Simon straightened his jacket and stepped forward, acting like it had been him rather than Elliot's own self-control that had prevented a physical altercation. "I'm thinking about Olivia."

Elliot shook his head, his fury already fading into desperation. "How is dying better for her?"

"I didn't say no. I just said I need to think about it. I want to research the procedures and decide what's best for her." Simon looked at Dr. Clancy. "I'll give you a call if I have any questions and let you know what I decide." He turned back to Elliot. "And I'd like to know why this is so important to you."

His jaw fell open. "Why isn't she important to you? You're claiming to be her brother, so why don't you want her to survive?"

"I don't want her to suffer, that's all I'm saying." Simon was slowly moving away, but Elliot wasn't letting him get more than a step.

"Well, God forbid she lives and you have to come see her once in a while."

"I have to get to work. I'll let you know what I decide."

All Elliot could think was that if Simon were to disappear suddenly, then Olivia's medical decisions would be up to him. And he was really fucking tempted to do something about it. The bullying wasn't working though, even without Olivia there to point it out. He needed to try something else.

"Wait, Simon," he took a few steps to close the distance, pausing to nod at Dr. Clancy who seemed satisfied no blood was going to be spilled. Elliot thought about Olivia and how she would have handled it. She'd be sweet and soft and gentle, and somehow get her point made just the same. "Olivia has been through a lot of shit in her life, shit other people wouldn't have survived, shit that would have made anyone else mean and crazy and heartless. But she survived and she turned out kind and loving and-" His voice cracked as he thought about her. "Perfect. She's fucking perfect, Simon. She came through everything because she wants to live. She wants to help people. Just give her a chance, please!"

Simon stared at him, holding his eyes. "Are you fucking her?"

"What? Jesus, no!" Certainly not for lack of trying, but he failed to see what that had to do with anything anyway.

Simon shrugged at him. "I'm just trying to figure out what's your deal. You're far too interested to be a coworker."

"We're partners, Simon, friends." He gave up trying to be nice. It always worked for Olivia, but it never worked for him. "And you're far too disinterested to be much of a brother, so fuck you."

He stormed away, his mind already working on what else he could do. Simon certainly wasn't going to help him out and with his utter lack of concern for his sister, Elliot was already sure he knew what Simon's final decision was going to be. He needed to find a lawyer, someone who could fight Simon for the right to decide for Olivia, someone who actually would have her best interests at heart, someone who would side with him.

Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone and find a divorce lawyer who would take the case.

After checking on Olivia, and finding her looking every bit as terribly sick as she had previously, Elliot headed back to his house. He needed to pack some things while Kathy was at work and as much as he wanted to stay with Olivia every minute, he recognized that his level of frustration with the situation was likely to wind up in him losing the tenuous grasp he had on his temper. If he flipped out on a doctor or nurse, they'd ban him from the place and then he'd be no good whatsoever to Olivia.

He didn't actually have anywhere to live, so he couldn't take much, but he threw some clothes into a bag. He could stay at the precinct for a while, use the shower there and keep his bag in his locker. It wasn't optimal, but he'd done it before and the free rent was right in his price range. He could put up with the inconvenience until he had the time and the energy to find a new place. Until Olivia was better, he didn't really give a fuck where he slept, particularly since he wasn't sleeping much anyhow.

Wary of the fact that Kathy could come home unexpectedly at any time, he didn't dawdle. He quickly perused the bedroom, bathroom, and living room, deciding that anything he missed that was essential could be picked up later or replaced entirely. All in all, it took him about fifteen minutes to move out of his house. He was back at the precinct a few minutes later, stashing his bag and making a mental list of the items he needed to pick up at the drug store.

Elliot had no intention of hanging around. He wasn't about to do work and sitting still for any period of time made him feel like he was going to crawl out of his skin. He needed to keep moving or his mind would get stuck on the fact that Olivia was damn close to dying and he was powerless to stop it.

And curling up in a ball on the floor sobbing wasn't going to do anyone any good at all.

As he headed toward the elevator to return to the hospital, he saw a familiar weasel ducking out of Cragen's office. He was tempted to wring the man's neck, but he held himself back with the promise that it would be best to wait until after Simon had consented to the transplant.

Fuck, Simon hadn't even consented to the testing to determine if there could even be a transplant.

Paralyzed by the choice of curling up in a ball sobbing or killing Simon prematurely, Elliot could only watch as Simon disappeared around the corner. By the time he'd pulled himself together, he knew the son of a bitch was long gone. Elliot headed for Cragen's office instead, demanding to know what the hell his boss was doing conspiring with the enemy.

Though Cragen was actually surprised by the level of fury in his detective, his surprise mostly was related to the previous visitor, and he revealed his confusion by tripping over his words in a stutter he'd suddenly developed. "I-I-wh-he-" Upon realizing that he couldn't articulate anything sensible, he fell silent and watched Elliot's attempt to keep his temper under wraps.

"What the fuck was that bastard doing here? What did you tell him? Did you tell him not to sign?" Infuriated by the idea that had only just occurred to him, Elliot leaned over the desk as though he might strangle the older man. "If you did, I'll kill you, I swear!"

Perhaps it was one of his detectives threatening to kill him. Perhaps it was that he wasn't certain his detective wouldn't do it. Either way, it revived Cragen's speaking ability. "I don't think I should have to tell you that having an adversarial relationship with Olivia's brother isn't going to end well."

Elliot glared. "He's the one who isn't sure it's worth saving her! Why don't you lecture him?" Despite the fact that he was convinced he was entirely not to blame, he felt guilty with Cragen's words reminding him of Olivia's feelings on the subject. She was so excited to be able to say she had a brother that she wouldn't care whose fault the dispute was. He looked down at his feet. "I didn't even do anything wrong. I'm trying to save his sister's life."

Cragen sighed and sat down at his desk. The threat to his life had obviously passed, what with the way Elliot was standing before him looking like a chastised puppy. "Simon wanted to know if it was possible you and Olivia were involved in something illegal."

"What?" He knew his face had to be priceless with the incredulity it revealed.

Cragen shrugged. "He seemed to think the only reason you'd be so desperate to save her was if you were dirty and her death would somehow bring your crimes to light." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not sure why he thought I would know about it and not have done something or not be involved, but at any rate, he just wanted to make sure you don't have any nefarious reasons for wanting to give Olivia a kidney. If there are nefarious reasons for wanting to give someone a kidney."

Elliot scrubbed his hands over his face. "So he'd let her die just to expose me? What the hell?"

"I don't know what he's thinking, but I assured him of the real reason and hopefully that'll be enough for him." Cragen's eyes had fallen to his desk as he fiddled with a paper clip.

"The real reason?" The lack of eye contact disturbed Elliot, making him fearful of whatever Cragen had said. "And that would be what exactly?"

With a smirk, Cragen met Elliot's eyes once again. "I told him that you're in love with her and that you won't survive losing her."

"Oh." He wanted to be mortified. He wanted to deny it. But it was the truth. And he had asked for the truth. Besides, it wasn't really all that shocking. It wasn't like everyone hadn't already known it anyway.


	22. Chapter 22

Part Twenty-Two

Before

Elliot was pissed as all hell. He couldn't imagine what had possessed the sniveling twerp to go to Cragen. He couldn't imagine what had possessed the sniveling twerp that any reason to keep Olivia alive was a bad reason. Who the fuck cared why Elliot wanted her safe so long as she was safe?

Simon was too fucking stupid to be left in charge of such an important decision, that much was obvious. But the fact was clear that Elliot didn't have the money to engage a lawyer to force Simon's hand. Elliot grinned as he drove to the hospital. Sure, he didn't have the money for a lawyer, but Simon didn't know that. Elliot had been bluffing perps into confessing for years; it was high time he turned that particular charm on Olivia's useless brother.

He figured he should go ahead and apologize to Olivia first, coma or no, because he knew she'd be mad that he'd bullied her brother. But, as he planned to tell her, he'd tried being nice and it hadn't gotten him, or her for that matter, anywhere. Besides, he planned to argue if she got the kidney and woke up and was healthy enough to fight with him about it, that he hadn't actually gotten a lawyer and gone before a judge and demanded the right to make decisions for her.

Still, he winced as he stood by her door, realizing that his insistence to make life or death decisions for her was going to be no end of trouble when she got better. Provided she got better. Otherwise, they'd just have to have it out in hell.

Elliot was startled to find that Olivia wasn't alone.

He was even more startled to recognize the person standing by his partner's bed wasn't Simon or Cragen or a medical professional or some stranger she might have called a friend. He'd been focusing on explaining himself to Olivia and gearing up for a fight with Simon, therefore, the sight of his wife rendered him speechless.

Kathy looked up, sorrow and guilt and sympathy written all over her face. "Hi."

Jesus. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't once considered talking to Kathy. He'd been busy with other shit. He'd just kind of assumed Kathy would disappear, much as his thoughts about her had since their argument. Maybe he hadn't assumed she'd disappear. Maybe he'd simply hoped she would. He didn't want to patch things up. He had bigger things on his mind at the moment.

Realizing that he wasn't going to say anything, Kathy looked back at Olivia's unconscious form. "She's really sick, isn't she?" She half shrugged at herself. "I know you said how sick she was, but I guess I thought you were exaggerating or something."

He swallowed hard and looked at Olivia. She looked like hell. Worse even. Her arms and legs remained swollen, despite the dialysis. Her face was puffy and red, shiny cheeks and sunken eyes, deep purple half-moons under her closed eyelids shouting to anyone who looked that comas didn't count as rest. Honestly, he could understand Clancy's and Simon's perspective for that moment, that Olivia was so very close to death that it might be cruel to pull her back to life. But his heart clenched in his chest, unable to face the thought of a life without her.

Determined not to cry, he drew in a shuddering breath and looked away, holding onto the air until he could expel it in a sigh that wasn't quite a sob. He drew his hands down his face and met Kathy's stare, unconcerned at the anger gathering there while she processed his emotional response. "She's going to die," he whispered, using all of his strength to form that much of a sound. "Unless I help her."

"I'm sorry for the other night. I overreacted." Kathy glanced at Olivia one more time before approaching Elliot. "I know she's your friend. I know how much she means to you. I was just scared at the idea of you putting your life in jeopardy, you know?" She offered a small smile, a tilt of her head to the right, something that might have been cute and endearing at one point in their relationship.

But Elliot was thinking about her words, about her meaning. He wanted to point out that Olivia wasn't just his friend and that Kathy certainly had no concept of how much Olivia meant to him, but he couldn't say it to her face, not right then, not when she was trying to make amends. She'd been angry and upset when she'd suggested an end to their marriage.

Elliot had been perfectly calm when he'd agreed.

He shook his head, acknowledging that there was no way to escape without causing everyone pain. But what fucking difference did it make anyway, when his life was falling apart and his partner was dying? He saw no point in beating around the bush, at least not any more.

"I have to do this."

Kathy closed her eyes, disappointment enveloping her features. "Damn it, Elliot." She sighed, shaking her head like he was one of her children asking to do something stupid. "It's dangerous. You have a family to think about."

Even though his mind had long been made up, Kathy's expectation that her apology would result in Elliot backing down just made him that much more determined. "Who does she have? I'm the only family she's got. I'm the only person thinking of her."

Kathy sighed again. "You've thought this through? The money, the time off work?"

There hadn't really been any thinking going on. "The time off work is covered. I already talked to Cragen. I've got plenty of vacation and sick time saved up. As for the money, Liv's insurance will pay for my medical shit." He'd read that much of the paperwork.

"So you're a match and everything?" Kathy folded her arms across her chest. "Isn't that rare for people who aren't related?"

He didn't know. He knew most kidney donors were relatives, but he didn't know if that was because they were better matches or if it was because they were more likely to want to donate. He imagined it was pretty uncommon to donate a kidney to a coworker. "We have the same blood type."

Kathy looked confused. "There's more to it than blood type, Elliot. There's more testing, even I know that."

"I know. They can't do the cross matching until her brother signs the consent forms." He knew as soon as he spoke that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Brother? She has a brother? You just said she didn't-" She was shaking her head and backing toward the door. "Jesus, Elliot, why the hell isn't he giving her a kidney?"

"She barely knows him, Kathy. She only found him a couple years ago. He might not be a match anyway, he's only her half-brother." He wasn't about to get into the specifics of the relationship. He'd never told Kathy about Olivia's father. "And I really doubt he'd be willing to donate anyway since he doesn't think she wants to live."

Kathy was furious, it was clear from her steely glare and her clenched jaw. "If her brother is so against this, why aren't you considering that he might be right?"

She didn't understand. He couldn't make her understand, not without revealing Olivia's secrets and he wasn't about to do that. With that half of the truth out of the question, he had to opt for what was left.

"I love her, Kathy. I'm going to fight to save her until the day I die. And if saving her life costs me mine, then that's ok." He felt the tears gathering again, his helplessness surfacing again. "It's worth it to me. Because I love her."

The fury faded from Kathy's face, replaced with a kind of hurt Elliot sorely wished he hadn't caused. But his honesty had the desired effect as she nodded. "Ok, I get it." She kept nodding, even as tears started to fall. "I think I actually knew for a while."

He reached out, hurt when Kathy backed away. "No, Kathy, it's not like that."

Her head tilted to the side again, her eyes pleading with him to have misunderstood everything. "What's it like then? You don't really love her?"

He couldn't say anything. He couldn't even say he hadn't cheated on her, because he had. Emotionally, even physically when he'd kissed Olivia and held her and told her he loved her.

Plastering a fake smile across her face, she stepped toward the door. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She wiped under her eyes, cleaning up the bits of smudged makeup. "Good luck with this, Elliot."

He found his voice again as she was crossing the threshold. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

She coughed out a rueful laugh. "Who did?" And then she was gone.

After Kathy's departure, Elliot didn't have the energy left to explain himself to Olivia. He hoped that she hadn't been able to hear or understand anything that had just happened. And then he found himself changing his mind and praying that she had, so that she would know his declaration of love hadn't been an attempt to get her in bed, so that she would know he meant it, so that she would know he was willing to leave his wife to be with her, so that she would know the marriage had been over anyway. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilty.

He sat down next to her bed, folded her hand between both of his and prayed. Prayed for her life. Prayed for his. Prayed for Simon's cooperation. Prayed for a chance to be with the woman he loved. Maybe it was wrong, but he didn't care. He really didn't. An eternity in hell, the hatred of his family, an estrangement from the only bit of family Olivia had to speak of, whatever the cost, Olivia's life was worth. And a chance to be with her? He couldn't even imagine.

When the door creaked open, Elliot fully expected it would be a nurse or maybe a doctor. But when he looked up, Simon was there. The confrontation with Kathy had taken the wind out of his sails. Still, Olivia's life was worth fighting for.

He stood up, gripping Olivia's hand in his for strength, speaking before Simon had made it two steps past the door. "I talked to a lawyer. He says I've got a good case for power of attorney over Olivia, so you can either sign the damn consent form or I can take you to court, but either way, Olivia is getting the damn kidney, you got it?"

Simon stopped dead, his eyes widening as most lay people's did at the mention of a court proceeding. Rather than saying anything, he reached for his jacket pocket, producing a dog-eared paper. "I already signed it. I'm going to give it to the doctor. I was just coming to look for you to let you know first."

It was all he could do not to hug the man. Instead he squeezed Olivia's hand so hard he feared he might have broken something. He wanted to keep up his tough act, in case Simon was just screwing with him, but he couldn't keep the smile from forming.

"Really? You signed it?" One of the crushing weights was lifting from his chest. Only a hundred more to go before he could actually breathe again.

Simon seemed to shrink into the wall, his gaze locked on the paper in his hands. "You were right. You do know her better and she chooses to spend all her time with you, so that tells me she trusts your judgment. She trusts you." He looked up and met Elliot's eyes. "I didn't want her to die. I just didn't want her to suffer. But the doctor thinks this kidney will make her better and you're happy to give her one and you're doing it for the right reasons…" He nodded toward the door. "I'm going to go give this to someone."

Elliot turned back to Olivia, wishing she were awake to share the triumphant smile on his face. Instead, he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You're going to get better, Liv. You just need to hold on a little bit longer."

He couldn't be absolutely positive, but he could have sworn he felt her hand tighten in his.


	23. Chapter 23

Part Twenty-Three

Before

It took about fifteen minutes after Simon left for Terry to appear. As opposed to the first time Elliot had met her, she didn't have a pile of papers to give him. She smiled, apparently having forgiven him for jumping down her throat, and offered her hand.

"Mr. Stabler, do you have a few minutes to talk?" She motioned toward the door. "We can sit down in the waiting room."

He nodded, turning his attention back to Olivia long enough to drop another kiss on her forehead. "Yeah, sure." He had to cooperate, despite his resistance to leaving Olivia. He was finally getting what he'd wanted so badly, he could hardly object to the procedure.

Terry was talking almost before Elliot sat down. "I'm sure you reviewed the paperwork I gave you, so some of this will be familiar, but I just want to go over the initial steps." She paused long enough for Elliot to nod. "Now, there are three pieces to determining if you're a match for Ms. Benson. The first step is blood typing, which they're working on right now. If you don't have the same blood type, there are options, so don't panic if you're not the same."

Elliot smiled and interrupted. "We do. We talked about it once." His polite smile shifted into a grin as he recalled the conversation. "We said we'd give each other a kidney."

Nodding, Terry continued. "That's great, but there's more to it than just blood type. With a match of blood type, they'll check both of your antigens, which you might hear called HLAs. Each person has six, three from each parent. If all six of yours match, they'll say it's six-for-six. There's also a half match, and of course, zero match. Naturally, it's best if all six match, but like with the blood type, there are options there as well."

Some of the words sounded familiar from his perusal of the paperwork, but it was hardly the most interesting thing he'd ever heard, though the idea of his and Olivia's blood having so much in common was a fascinating idea. "And they'll check that now too?"

"Yes, if they blood types match as you say, they'll immediately check the antigens and then proceed with the crossmatching. This is the big test, the one that will have the most to do with whether you match. Some of your white blood cells will be mixed together with Ms. Benson's. If her cells consider yours invaders and attack, the test will be positive and you won't be a match. So, in that case, a negative, where her cells don't see yours as a threat, is good. And like before, there are options, such as plasmapheresis, if you're not a match."

He grinned at the thought, suspecting Olivia's cells might want to kick the shit out of his. But then again, they'd been together for so long and sometimes in such close quarters, he decided it was a distinct possibility that her cells might not even notice his. Half the time he wasn't sure where he ended and she began, after all. He nodded at Terry, knowing his smile seemed out of context to the woman.

"So they're going to do that testing now? With the blood sample they took the other day?"

She nodded. "Once it's determined if you're a match, there will be some testing for you. A physical, blood work, an MRA, but someone will go over all that when the time comes." She smiled warmly at him in a way he understood meant she felt sorry for him. It made sense when she continued. "There's no use in getting ahead of ourselves though. The next steps will only happen if you're a match."

Swallowing hard, Elliot's grin faded. Having the same blood type didn't mean anything if the other tests failed. But he refused to consider that might happen. He couldn't face the idea that he'd gone through all that trouble and been willing to help and wouldn't be able to in the long run.

Terry reached out, patting his forearm. "I really hope it goes well for you." Her smile was gone, her eyes serious. "Should it be determined you're a match, the next parts will move quickly. Ms. Benson's health is so precarious that it will be important she receives the kidney as soon as possible. I recommend you be ready to be admitted for surgery within the next three or four days, so if you need to make arrangements for work or childcare or anything like that, you should do that now."

"I talked to our boss already. My wife is aware as well so the kids are good." He was ready to lie down on the next stretcher he saw.

"One more thing, if the transplant is approved, Ms. Benson will be transferred to New York Presbyterian. We don't handle transplants here."

"What the hell?" Elliot jumped to his feet, ready to fight. "I've gone through all this shit and you won't even do the damn surgery? Let's move her now then. I'll talk to people over there."

Obviously used to Elliot's quick temper, Terry remained seated. "She was admitted here, and we're following standard protocol. There's no sense in moving her until we know it's going ahead. As you know, her health is very poor and it's best to avoid any stress, even that of moving to another hospital, unless it's absolutely necessary."

"It's absolutely necessary she get a kidney and you can't do that. Why are we wasting time?" He felt like someone had cut him off at the knees.

"The blood tests are the same no matter where you have them done. You're welcome to have your exams and tests done there. I assumed you'd want to stay here as close to Ms. Benson as possible until the surgery."

She had him there. They both knew it. Elliot flopped back in the chair beside her. "Yeah, fine."

"Do you have any questions about the matching or the procedures?" Terry watched him hopefully, the social worker gleam in her eyes making it obvious she wanted to counsel him on something.

Elliot shook his head. "No, I think I've got it. I'm a match or I'm not. Pretty straight forward." He was simplifying it, but that was what it came down to in the end really. And then it hit him. "What if I'm not? What will happen? Olivia needs a kidney."

"There are options. For instance, if the HLA isn't a match, anti-rejection drugs can be used. Or you could be part of a paired exchange, where two people who want to donate basically switch places – they'll donate to the person the other wants to donate to. In fact, paired exchanges can form a long chain of people who want to help. Or Ms. Benson could receive a kidney from a deceased donor."

"That's possible? The kidney's still good?" Maybe he should have read the paperwork more closely.

Terry shrugged. "Yes, it's possible. But to be honest, kidneys from the poorest matched living donors are more successful transplants than ones from the best matched cadaver."

Elliot dropped his face into his hands. He'd been fighting for the right to donate his kidney, for Olivia's right to receive it. But he'd never really considered that her body wouldn't accept it. He'd been convinced the biggest hurdle was permission for the surgery. He'd been wrong. And it terrified him. He'd be crazed with worry until he had an answer.

"When will we know? How long will the results take?" With his anxiety growing by leaps and bounds, he wasn't sure he could survive another second without hearing good news.

"Shouldn't be more than a few hours."

It was a terribly long three hours. He vacillated between wondering what was taking so long and dreading the moment when the answer would come. He knew if he wasn't a match, he'd long for the time before he knew for certain. Of course, if he was, he'd be angry at the delay in moving forward. Whether the news was good or bad, the waiting was making him nuts.

And still, when Dr. Clancy pushed through the door to Olivia's room, Elliot feared what news the old man would deliver. His heart raced and his breath came in short pants, his suddenly sweaty palms gripping Olivia's hand to keep him grounded. He was so very scared right then he wanted to run away. He hadn't felt that way since he was a little boy, when his parents would come in the room, when due either to his mother's sickness or his father's temper he knew he had every reason to be frightened.

"Mr. Stabler."

"Well?" He didn't see the point in wasting any more time. He'd just have to brave hearing the news, whichever way it went.

The old man's lips curled upward, his smile somehow appearing equally pleased and unhappy. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Am I a match or not?" If he didn't get an answer soon, he was going to pass out from hyperventilating. He was thankful that at the very least, Olivia wouldn't be conscious to see him do something so ridiculous.

"You have the same blood type, as you indicated, A positive. The HLAs were a three-for-six match, not the best, but certainly fine for transplantation. As for the crossmatching, that came back negative."

Elliot closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry. "Negative?" He swallowed, trying to force back the lump that threatened to choke him. "I'm not a match?"

Dr. Clancy smiled, slightly more convincingly. "The crossmatching test needs to come back negative in order to be a match."

"That's the one to see if her blood reacts to mine?" He remembered Terry saying something about wanting one of the tests to come back negative, but he hadn't really been listening. Well, he had been, but he couldn't for the life of him remember. "So I am a match?"

The doctor finally gave him a definitive answer. "Yes. You're a match."


	24. Chapter 24

Part Twenty-Four  
Before

Elliot had never in his life felt like dancing. But he did right then. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with the urge to dance and hug random people. In fact, Dr. Clancy was starting to look downright kissable. Luckily, he restrained himself. "When can we do the surgery?"

Dr. Clancy watched as the smile spread across Elliot's face. "The social worker should have explained there are more tests-"

"Right, but my health is fine, so it's ok. I'll be able to give her a kidney and she'll be fine and everything's fine. So when can we do the surgery?" He could hardly believe his luck.

"I've contacted the transplant coordinator already. I assumed you'd be eager to continue." Dr. Clancy barely waited for a nod. "Evelyn will be in shortly to go over everything with you."

Elliot's desire to hug anyone vanished, replaced immediately by the far more familiar urge to hit someone. He recognized that pounding the doctor would only hinder matters further, however, and bit back the urge. "Ok, fine. I'll talk to whoever I need to talk to. I just want to hurry this along."

The doctor smiled, perhaps realizing that Elliot had already been pushed about as far as he could be. "Hopefully your work up will be completed by this time tomorrow, and provided everything is ok, we can think about scheduling the surgery for Friday. It would be great to get it done before next week."

"Why not Thursday? Why not sooner?" He knew it was too much to ask for that the surgery happen immediately, but he felt like every minute was being wasted.

"There are things to coordinate, Mr. Stabler. We'll have to have the transplant team ready for both of you, the transfer has to be arranged, and there are things that need to be completed before this can happen."

Elliot bit his lip and nodded. He understood on some level that something as important as an organ transplant needed to be carefully arranged, but still, something as important as an organ transplant seemed like it ought be to completed as soon as possible. "What about Olivia? Does she have that long?"

Despite the idea he'd had about her squeezing his hand, she hadn't stirred once. That couldn't be a good sign.

In typical doctor fashion, Clancy refused to answer the question directly. "We're working as fast as we can."

After a period that Elliot alternately thought was an instant or eternity, he found himself lying in a hospital bed. A thin white blanket outlined his body, marked with a mostly worn away stamp on one side that read New York Presbyterian Hospital. Although it had felt like it was taking forever, everything had gone by in a blur. He'd been examined. He'd been strapped down and run through some giant machine. He'd been questioned so intensely he'd felt like he was being sweated in the interrogation room. He'd even updated his life insurance coverage and reviewed his will, per the urging of the coordinator.

He'd been afraid each time he answered a question or faced a doctor that he was saying the wrong thing. It reminded him of school exams – he was unprepared and terrified of getting it wrong. And of course, with Olivia's life riding on everything he said, the punishment for failure was so much worse.

But somehow, he'd made it through to Friday morning, where he'd left Olivia's side at St. Vincent's and checked himself in to the hospital a few minutes away. They'd gone over the procedure a hundred times. He'd be admitted, his vital signs checked one last time, then he'd be prepped for surgery while Olivia was moved by ambulance. He'd be in the operating room, starting the removal of his left kidney, which apparently was preferred for donation because the renal artery was longer, when Olivia arrived and was moved immediately into the operating room adjacent to his.

It was ten in the morning. By the afternoon, Olivia would have one of his kidneys in her body and they'd finally be on the right track. They'd finally be to the getting better stage Elliot had been pushing for.

Still, he hated that he was so far away from her. He wanted to climb out of the bed and go find her, was tempted to ask if he could ride in the ambulance with her.

As he lay there, waiting for some indication that things were still going according to plan, his mind raced. He feared Kathy's words, that one day one of his children would be in a similar situation to Olivia's and he'd be powerless to help. He had to soothe his own fears, to remind himself that not only was such a possibility unlikely, but that his children each had siblings who'd be just as likely to be able to donate. Since only one of his children was speaking to him, and that was only because little Eli was too young to understand the bullshit Maureen had been convincing everyone of, he doubted they'd want his kidney anyhow.

He feared the very real possibility of Olivia's body rejecting the kidney as well. Despite the fact that they were a match, despite the fact that all the tests had come back showing no reason why she would reject it, he'd heard the warnings of the doctors and all the paperwork he'd been forced to read repeatedly. There was always a chance of rejection, no matter how well matched the donor and recipient were. The idea terrified him beyond words. Literally. When he was asked if he had any questions, he could never find the words to voice how scared he was that all of the trouble he'd gone to would amount to nothing and Olivia would be in just as bad, if not worse, shape.

Finally, the door opened. Elliot's heart raced as he realized the moment was near. He'd brushed off the concerns of having major surgery, more concerned with Olivia's health than with his own, but suddenly anxiety rose up.

Rather than an orderly ready to wheel him to surgery, it was Evelyn who stepped out of the shadows. "Hi, Elliot."

Nervous as he'd felt, he was suddenly let down. "Hi." And then more nerves set it, different nerves. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Evelyn shook her head. "No, no, everything's still fine. Olivia is on her way here." She nodded toward the door. "They're waiting to take you downstairs. I just wanted to check in one last time before you went in."

Elliot nodded. "Yeah, ok, I'm good." He swallowed, thinking for once he might find the strength to voice his concerns about the transplant not working and yet, realizing that it wasn't the best time to suddenly decide to discuss it.

The older woman seemed to read the reluctance. "You know, Elliot, if you're having second thoughts, the surgery can be postponed." She stepped forward, putting her hands on the rail along the side of Elliot's bed. "I want you to know that this is voluntarily. If you want to back out, no one will blame you."

Elliot looked at her horrified. He didn't want to back out. He just wanted assurance that it wouldn't all come to nothing. "No, I don't want to back out."

"No one will know. As a transplant coordinator, I can find a perfectly legitimate medical reason to cancel it. You don't need to feel guilty."

He sat up in the bed, his hand coming down tight on hers. "Jesus, no, please!" He got over his fears in that second. As afraid as he was that the transplant would fail, he was more afraid of it not having the chance to succeed. Olivia needed the kidney. She needed a chance to live.

Evelyn smiled, nodding as she stepped backward. "Ok, then, I'll let them know." She turned toward the door, pausing to look back for a moment. "Good luck, Elliot."

Elliot lay back down, sighing heavily. Scared or not, he was going through with it. Because it wouldn't really matter if he died, not if Olivia didn't survive. He didn't want to live without her. It was perfectly rational to risk everything for Olivia.

Because Olivia was everything.

Regardless of the situation, regardless of the fact that he'd asked to be there, being rolled through the hallways on a stretcher, staring up at fluorescent lights was nerve-wracking. It was upsetting. If he hadn't been nervous already, he knew the ride would have done the job on its own. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what he was doing. He wished they already knocked him out. Rolling around with his eyes closed just made him sick to his stomach.

They'd put the IV line in before they'd taken him from his room. He stared up at the bag as he moved, finding that focusing on it rather than watching the lights pass helped. He fixed his eyes on the drip, counting the drops as he was wheeled toward the operating room. He knew by the time that drip had stopped he'd be back in his room, minus a kidney, waiting to hear how Olivia's half of the operation had gone.

And then he was in a brightly lit room, wincing at the lights in his eyes. Someone was talking to him, but his attention was drawn to his arm, to a warm, fuzzy feeling slowly quickly spreading into his shoulder, and then his chest, and then the lights slipped away.

Had he been awake to think, he would have thought it merciful that, for the time being at least, he didn't have to worry about anything.


	25. Chapter 25

Part Twenty-Five  
Before

The world was fuzzy. Warm and cozy and soft. Elliot was so comfortable that he didn't even want to open his eyes. Something nagged at the back of his mind, though, something that wouldn't let him slip back to sleep. He had no idea what it was and the notion that he was missing something important forced him to pull open his eyes.

The light was atrocious, so bright it almost felt like it was burning him. He groaned and turned away, at least he tried to, but his head was so heavy he couldn't quite make it move. He wanted to shield his eyes instead, but his arms were just as uncooperative. Groaning again, he tried to speak, hoping someone was there to hear. "Light."

"Is that bothering you?" The light dimmed as a shadow mercifully passed over his face, then a clicking noise, then wonderful darkness. "Better?"

He fought his eyes back open again, still wincing from other, less obnoxious, light sources. It took him a moment, trying to place his surroundings, the woman beside his bed. He worked out that he was in a hospital. But the woman, no, he was fairly certain he didn't have a single fucking clue who she was.

And she definitely wasn't the woman he wanted to see when he woke up confused in a hospital bed.

"Olivia?" He sounded drunk, even to his own ears, but he figured he was already in the hospital and so they probably expected him to be impaired.

The young woman looked up from where she'd moved by the foot of the bed. "No, I'm Keandra, your nurse this afternoon. You can't have visitors until you're out of post-op." She looked down, lifting the blanket away from his feet, prodding at his legs. Then she moved around to his side, checking the clear plastic bag filled with yellow fluid.

It was hard to talk; his mouth was dry and felt like it was full of something. He didn't like being disoriented though, and so tried to make himself understood. "What? Where?"

Keandra smiled as she reached over him, checking the IV bag and the tape on his arm. "You're just coming out of anesthesia. A little confusion is normal." She made a few notes on the computer she had with her. "Your remaining kidney looks like it's functioning well and producing urine. Are you in any pain?"

Kidney? Urine? Pain? He wasn't sure he knew what the words meant. He was floating, even though his body was too heavy to lift. And still, the notion that something was wrong wouldn't let him be. "Olivia?" At that moment he couldn't be sure who, or what, Olivia was, but Olivia was somehow very important to his well-being.

Keandra smiled and patted his arm through the blanket she'd tucked up around him. "Get some sleep. You'll feel better next time you wake up."

The woman seemed nice enough, and so, Elliot did as he was told.

Had Elliot retained any recollection of Keandra's promise, he would have demanded she apologize for bullshitting him. He didn't feel better. He felt like crap. His mouth was still painfully dry and his head was pounding and he felt like he'd gone way too hard at the gym. Everything was sore. Disappointed to be having such a bad day before he'd even gotten out of bed, he turned his pounding head to the side and looked around.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't in his bed. Or on his couch. Or in the crib. The few seconds of consciousness allowed him to remember he was in a hospital, that he'd had surgery, that he was desperate to know how Olivia's surgery had gone.

Rather than Keandra or one of her nurse buddies, Elliot saw a familiar blonde head in the chair by the window, so engrossed in a magazine she had yet to notice that he was awake. Even if he hadn't felt like shit, Kathy still would have been the last person he wanted to see. Probably because she'd be too pissed to tell him how Olivia was doing.

But he'd confessed to her that he loved another woman and she had still shown up by his bedside, thus he figured she might take pity on him. "Kathy, how's Olivia?"

The head snapped up, a familiar scowl in place. "A, I'm not Kathy. B, I don't know or care how Olivia is."

"Maureen?" He couldn't believe he'd mistaken the woman sitting in front of him. He couldn't believe how much Maureen had grown to resemble her mother. He couldn't believe he'd never noticed it.

She stood up, tossing her magazine on the chair, looking every bit as annoyed as she had in her teenage years, despite the fact that she was no longer an adolescent. "Mom thought someone should be here in case you died."

Fuck, she was still pissed.

"We were working."

She rolled her eyes and headed for the door. "Whatever, dad. You're alive. I'm leaving."

"Maureen, wait." It was sapping all of his strength to speak. He hoped she would listen since chasing her was absolutely beyond his capabilities.

She paused, sighing loudly before she looked back at him. "I took off work, but I've got things to do."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. She wasn't going to give him much of a chance. He didn't want to blow it by saying the wrong thing. But his thoughts were still muddled, probably from pain killers or anesthesia or who knew what. "We talked to your friend and told her what happened."

"Yeah, Megan told me you were working." She glared at him to let him know exactly what she thought of the message she'd received. "She also told me you were drunk off your ass and I saw you with her," she spat out the last word like it tasted bad. "So, like I said, whatever."

Considering that he'd just left her mother, he realized she wasn't going to listen to anything involving Olivia. He didn't feel like getting into it himself. There was something else she needed to know that was just as important, at least if she wanted to stay safe. "That club is owned by the Russian mob and they're selling teenage girls as sex slaves. That's who we were after that night. I don't care what you think about me and Olivia, but for the love of God, please don't hang out there with your friends."

She rolled her eyes again, giving Elliot the impression that she was still very much a teenager inside, despite her years. "Yeah, mom told me already. Fine." She took out her phone and typed something, only to look up a moment later, seemingly dismayed that her father wasn't gone yet. "So, can I go now?"

His eldest daughter's attitude and blatant disrespect irritated him. "What you saw that night – you misunderstood. Not really surprising since you were drunk. We were working. We were undercover. You were wrong and when you're ready to apologize, I'll be ready to listen."

"I was wrong? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I just told you. We were working. You were wrong about what you thought you saw." He really wished he had the energy to sit up since it was hard to be condescending while he was flat on his back.

Maureen snickered. "Yeah, I was wrong. Says the man who just gave his not-mistress a kidney. You suck, dad."

And with that bit of wisdom, she was gone, striding out the door before Elliot could wrap his brain around what she'd said.

Rather than fume over Maureen's behavior, rather than regret his own the night that started the whole mess with Maureen, he turned his attention to the reason he was there in the hospital. With no one else there, he was dependent on the medical staff to give him news on Olivia. He grabbed the call button, pressing it repeatedly, knowing it would have no more effect than abusing an elevator button. It just made him feel like he was doing something to shorten the process.

A young man entered the room, reaching toward the wall to turn off the call. "What can I do for you, Elliot?"

"How's Olivia?"

The man smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm John, your nurse this evening. How are you doing? Any pain? We can increase the pain medication if you're hurting."

Had he had any strength, Elliot would have throttled the chipper man. "Look, I'm here because I just donated a kidney to Olivia. I'd like to fucking know how she is! Is that too much to ask?"

John smiled again. "No, I don't think so. Let me go check on that. Olivia what?"

How the hell the reason why he was there could have been overlooked was beyond him. He wondered how many kidney transplants they'd had that morning. "Benson. Olivia Benson. Just tell me if she's ok."

"Will do." John disappeared through the door, hopefully to get some useful information.

While he was gone, Elliot looked for his watch or a clock. John had said it was evening. Elliot's surgery had been in the morning. It scared him that no one had come to tell him how it had gone. Not even Cragen or Simon. He'd have expected someone to at least give him the courtesy to let him know if she'd survived the operation.

He feared that was why everyone was pretending not to know anything about it, as though they were all aware something had gone terribly wrong and were hoping someone else would be the one to break the news to him. He decided if John came back, it was good news. If John called someone else, it was bad. And so, he stared expectantly at the hallway.

John's smiling face popped into the doorway and Elliot let out a sigh of relief.

But then John spoke. "The doctor's going to be right in to see you."

Tears sprang to his eyes, a lump forming in his throat, he struggled to take in air. He'd gone through all that trouble, put up so much of a fight to save her, and Olivia was gone. She was dead and no one could even be bothered to tell him. He didn't want to still be breathing to hear the news. And if he was, he'd make sure to remedy that as soon as he had enough strength to sit up.


	26. Chapter 26

Part Twenty-Six  
Before

Elliot's fists were clenched tightly around the blanket. His breath kept catching in his throat and he had to remind himself to breathe. Maybe if he stopped breathing, then time would stop and he wouldn't ever have to hear the bad news. He contemplated calling John back, insisting on a large dose of pain meds so he could prevent the news from sinking in. But then he'd have to remain on the pain meds forever because he would never be in a position to hear it.

Just as he was starting to contemplate overdosing to spare himself the pain, there was a knock on his door. He knew it was the doctor and he swallowed hard, telling himself not to break down crying.

A vaguely familiar face popped around the corner. "Elliot Stabler?"

Elliot's train of thought completely derailed as he searched his memory. "Father Gabriel?"

It took the priest a moment for recognition to set in. "Elliot! It's good to see you again!"

"What are you doing here?" He didn't understand why the younger man had been surprised to find him. He didn't know why the younger man had been looking for him. He supposed they were hoping he wouldn't kill a priest for telling him Olivia was dead.

"Just because this is a Presbyterian hospital doesn't mean they won't let a Catholic priest in."

"I know that, I just –" He stopped for a moment, thinking perhaps he already had enough pain killers. "How did you find me?"

Gabriel chuckled. "I didn't come looking for you. Well, I did, but I didn't- ok, I have a list of Catholic patients to visit and I try to look in on everyone in the ICU. I wasn't looking for you particularly." He stopped to smile as he stepped closer to the bed. "Although I have to admit I'm glad to see you again."

Elliot smiled at him, having forgotten about Olivia and the doctor out of utter shock. "I took your advice. The surgery was this morning." And then reality came crashing down. "Oh, God, I haven't heard anything about Olivia – the doctor was supposed to be coming in. They won't tell me if she's alive! I don't know if they were able to use my kidney or-"

"Olivia?" Gabriel checked on his list. "I just saw an Olivia who had surgery today."

"Olivia Benson – is she ok?" Elliot's heart was beating so fast at the words that the monitor beside him started beeping wildly.

Gabriel smiled. "I'm sure I'm not supposed to tell you-"

Elliot sat up. At least he tried to. As soon as he tensed the muscles in his abdomen required to lift his upper half, he felt the stabbing pain reminding him that he'd just had his organs scrambled. He couldn't finish the threat that had started to form on his lips. With a sharp hiss, he fell back the half inch he'd managed to lift, groaning at the lingering pain from the attempt.

"But I think it would be cruel to keep you waiting." Gabriel rested his hand on Elliot's shoulder. "She's fine. I don't know the specifics of her condition and she was rather dazed, but she seemed well enough. She didn't object to me saying a prayer."

Elliot let out a breath, one he'd been holding for days. "She's alive?" Then his eyes narrowed. "She's awake?" When Gabriel nodded, he continued. "She let you pray over her?"

Gabriel smiled. "She was a little out of it. I can't say she really knew what was going on, but she was awake."

Elliot stared at the man, certain he was some kind of angel. "She's been in a coma for days. She hasn't been conscious since before she was stabbed."

Nodding, the young priest squeezed Elliot's shoulder. "Obviously you did the right thing." He opened his bible with the red cord attached to the spine, flipping it to a certain page. "Do you mind if we pray?"

With a grin and a moment of complete self-satisfaction, Elliot sighed. "Yeah, that's fine."

The doctor finally arrived, after such a delay that Elliot could only thank god that Father Gabriel had already given him the news on Olivia. Elliot had met Dr. Vincent the day before, only bothering to leave Olivia's side to meet the man who would operate on him when it became absolutely clear that the surgery would be happening.

Much younger than Clancy, Vincent talked fast and didn't try to break things down for his patient to understand them. He acknowledged Elliot with a slight quirk of his lips that couldn't quite be described as a smile. Setting the chart he was carrying down on the table, he pulled back Elliot's blanket without so much as a word. He went about examining him, poking and pushing until Elliot groaned, then inquiring about the pain level. When he finished with Elliot's abdomen, he put the blanket back and moved to the foot of the bed, repeating the process and examining Elliot's feet and legs.

When he was done with his exam, he remained by Elliot's feet while he made some notes. "Everything looks good. How's the pain?"

Elliot shrugged. "Not so bad. Unless I move."

"Try not to move just yet. The surgery went well, but your body has still had a trauma. It needs to recover and you don't want to stress that kidney."

Normally he would have disputed the idea that he could stay still for more than five minutes at a time, but he'd tried to move once and that had been enough for him. Going anywhere would have to wait. Besides, moving wasn't his biggest priority; information was. "What about Olivia? How's she doing?"

"I checked with her surgeon before I came in – that's why I was so long. Dr. Nevelle said she's doing as well as can be expected." He paused to flip the page, checking his notes. "Olivia's new kidney began working as soon as the blood supply was attached, which is always a good sign; however, there are no guarantees. Patients often experience more than one episode of rejection and the acceptance in the first few days is no indication of how well Olivia will tolerate the kidney in the future."

When the doctor stopped speaking, Elliot waited for him to continue. There had to be more. There had to be a 'but' coming. There had to be another hurdle, another obstacle, another reason for Olivia's life to be in jeopardy. As the silence stretched on, it became clear that he was supposed to say something. It made him think he must have misunderstood.

"She might reject it, but she's not right now? It's working and she's ok?" He hated that his voice sounded so wistful, but in the end, he'd just given the woman a kidney; he figured the medical establishment already had a fair idea of how he felt about Olivia. Hell, even his wife and children and boss knew how much cared about her. He'd told Olivia herself. There was no point in trying to hide it anymore.

Vincent nodded. "Like I said, there's no guarantee, but as of now, she's doing well."

"And she's awake?" Elliot didn't think Father Gabriel had lied to him, but it seemed too much to ask for that Olivia was alive and well and awake.

"I believe Dr. Nevelle said she was talking, but still a little groggy from the anesthesia and, of course, the coma she's been in." Vincent stepped toward the door. "I'll be in to check on you tomorrow, and the nurses can contact me any time. Unless you have any more questions-"

"Can I see her?"

She was awake. Her, his, kidney was working. He wanted nothing more than to meet her eyes for the first time since he'd told her he loved her. To see her getting better finally. To know he'd done something to help her. To know he'd saved her. That was what it had all been about.

Vincent shook his head. "I'm afraid you're going to need to stay off your feet for a while longer. Work on healing yourself and she'll do the same." He smiled, trying to be friendly while delivering such rotten words. "You've done your part to help her. Now you have to worry about yourself."

Elliot nodded, watching the doctor until he left.

The hell with that. He was going to see Olivia if it killed him.

During the next hour, Elliot made no less than six attempts to get up. He was convinced if he could only get himself upright, he'd be able to walk. Unfortunately, his abs felt like he'd done a million sit-ups and refused to help him. He couldn't even roll himself onto his side where gravity might help swing his legs underneath him. Thoroughly frustrated, he recognized he needed help. He'd just have to find someone to help him.

As he lay there, he thought of his options. Cragen would help him. The man knew Elliot was in love with Olivia and he'd let them keep working together. He'd certainly understand that Elliot needed to see her. Fin would probably help too, if not for him, then for Olivia's benefit. He'd recognize that Olivia wanted to see Elliot as much as Elliot wanted to see Olivia. Munch would be useless. Even if he'd agree to do something he'd label stupid, he wouldn't be able to support Elliot's weight. He doubted Kathy and the kids would help him visit Olivia. There were some other guys, old buddies from years on the force, that might be willing to help, provided they came to see him.

Regardless of the odds of being successful, Elliot decided he'd ask the next person who came through the door.

His resolve faltered when the next face he saw was that of George Huang. As a member of the medical profession, he'd probably side with the doctor and refuse to take part. However, Elliot remembered, Huang had known how Elliot felt before even Elliot had.

Elliot's mouth twisted into a smile. "George."

Huang set the small plant he was carrying on the table. "How are you feeling?"

"I need a favor."

Chuckling, Huang shook his head. "Of course you do. I'm not doing anything illegal."

"It's not illegal, it's just-" Elliot shrugged.

"Ill-advised?"

"Yes, that's it exactly."

Huang sighed and nodded. "Let me guess, you want me to take you to see Olivia because no one else will."

"You're the first person I've asked." Elliot was already gripping the bed rails, anticipating that Huang would refuse, expecting he'd need to hold onto something to stop himself from punching his friend.

"I don't think you're walking anywhere right now." Huang held up his hand to quiet Elliot's protest before it had even started. "I'll go find a wheelchair."


	27. Chapter 27

Part Twenty-Seven  
Before

His heart was racing as he waited for Huang to return. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only had Olivia survived, but he hadn't met any resistance in getting to see her. Trying to be helpful, he made another attempt to sit up. But his muscles rebelled, leaving him winded and in pain despite having achieved absolutely nothing at all.

Huang returned to find Elliot sweating and panting from the failure. He shook his head, an amused grin spreading across his face. "Take it easy, Elliot." He patted Elliot shoulder as he carefully studied the monitors. "Give me a minute to figure these out."

As much of a hurry as he was in, Elliot knew setting off the alarms would bring the medical staff running, staff who would only insist that Elliot remain in his bed to recover and he wouldn't have the energy to argue that he couldn't possibly dream of recovery until he could see Olivia. He needed to talk to her, to meet her eyes, to have visual proof that she was alive and well and recovering herself.

They were symbiotic, he realized. They were either both ok or neither ok, but never somewhere in between. It was all or nothing with them. It always had been.

With a satisfied sigh, Huang flipped two switches and the monitors stopped beeping. Silence fell over the room, Elliot's ears ringing from the loss of a sound he'd gotten used to. He felt funny talking in the quiet and so dropped his voice to a whisper. "We good?"

"I don't hear any alarms." Huang shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at the door. "And I don't see anyone coming to investigate."

Elliot smiled. "Then we're good. But-"

"We should hurry just in case, I know." Huang shook his head, his desire to say more obvious. "Ok, let's figure out how to do this." He lined the wheelchair up next to the bed, taking the time to apply the brakes. "You're not going to be much help, are you?"

Elliot grimaced; he was barely able to lift his head. He felt really sorry for the small man he was expecting to lift him. "Maybe once I'm on my feet-" He looked down at his stomach. "But I can't sit up on my own." Had Olivia been there, he knew she would have marveled at the idea that he actually had the ability to both recognize and admit his own physical limitations. With a grin, he thought about telling her about his newfound skill as soon as he got to her.

Huang pulled the blankets back and moved toward the foot of the bed. "I was thinking maybe we could swing your legs around and kind of let gravity help out."

Elliot was going to nod, except his attention was diverted by the odd plastic socks he hadn't realized he was wearing. They looked kind of like knee-high boots, except they were made of inflated plastic. "What the hell?"

"They're to prevent blood clots. People who have surgery aren't supposed to be up moving around, you know." Huang chuckled. "Can you move your legs at all?"

Annoyed that the doctor was laughing at him, even if he was helping, Elliot snarled. "Yes, I can move my legs. I'm not paralyzed." Elliot's irritation only grew when he realized that he could not, in fact, lift his legs.

"Lifting your legs uses your abdominal muscles, which I thought might bother you in your condition." Huang was smirking. Maybe not outwardly, but Elliot knew it was there all the same.

Closing his eyes in defeat, he considered for a moment if seeing Olivia was worth the utter devastation of his dignity. But it didn't even take a whole moment. He didn't need to think. Of course it was. Any price was worth seeing Olivia. But that didn't mean he had to like it when he muttered that he needed help once again.

It was a testament to how desperately he wanted to see his partner that he endured the humiliation and physical pain involved in letting Huang drag him out of his bed and more or less drop him into the wheelchair. Aching and sore and mortified, he said nothing while Huang pulled a blanket from the bed and tucked it around his legs. He pretended not to know what was going on when Huang dropped the catheter bag into his lap, tucking it under the blanket without a word. Dignity? What dignity? He was going to visit Olivia. He yanked the wires from his chest, figuring someone could hook them back up later. He'd need more help than Huang could provide getting back into the bed anyway.

Huang was just as exhausted and red-faced after the experience. "So, we're ready?"

Elliot nodded, fisting his hands around the half of the cover in his lap that concealed the plastic bag of urine. Yes, he was ready. He was more than ready to see his precious Olivia. He was so ready he nearly cried at the thought.

The trip lasted forever and a few days. Huang was moving in slow motion. The damn elevator took at least two hours to arrive, then another four before it climbed the two stories to Olivia's floor. He wanted to bitch at Huang, demand that he move faster, but he was afraid that complaining would only result in Huang stopping long enough to argue, slowing down just to be a jerk, or possibly taking him back to his room. Afraid of the penalty for mentioning it, Elliot bit his tongue.

In all rationality, Elliot understood that time had probably not actually slowed down and that Huang was likely not deliberately being rotten after he'd gone to all the trouble to help out in the first place. But even knowing that didn't seem to speed the trip any.

His heart was pounding so hard when Huang stopped outside a doorway that Elliot was thankful he wasn't hooked up to those monitors anymore. Huang looked around in a paranoid fashion, checking to make sure no one was looking.

"She's not allowed any visitors yet, so if you get caught, I'm out of here."

Elliot nodded. Huang had already done enough. Even if he left him there outside the door, Elliot could find the strength to roll himself that much further. But Huang didn't abandon him. He pushed him forward, past the curtain, right up next to the bed. He even reached for the controls, lowering the bed as far as it would go to give Elliot a better view.

Huang said something; somewhere in the back of his head, Elliot heard his voice. But he didn't actually hear the words. He didn't hear anything. He could have gone deaf in that moment for all he heard.

His eyes were locked on Olivia, on the way her hair fanned out on her pillow, on her cheeks, a hint of red where they'd previously been pale, her lips curving the slightest bit into a smile, her dark eyes open, locking on his.

He couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say anymore. He reached for her hand, both of his curling around it, finding it almost unbelievable that he was finally able to feel her hand return the pressure of his squeeze.

Her pupils were wide, her eyelids drifting closed every few seconds as though they were too heavy to lift. She was on far more pain medicine than he was, he knew, and probably also far more frightened than he'd been. Her voice was raspy, thick and awkward after lying silent for so long.

"Hey."

It was such a typical thing for her to say that he laughed, despite the pain it caused him. "Hey yourself."

She worked to swallow, let her eyes linger closed for a long moment, and then tried again. "What's going on?"

He didn't want to have to tell her. He didn't want to be the one who informed her of everything. But he didn't trust anyone else to either. He squeezed her hand. "You were stabbed." His voice cracked and he stopped long enough to hopefully pull himself together. No sense in scaring the woman. "It was bad."

She looked away, checking herself, apparently finding that the information seemed to help the puzzle in her head. "The Simonovichs."

Elliot nodded. "Peter is dead."

A stranger wouldn't have seen the wince, but he wasn't a stranger. He knew the information wasn't news to her. She nodded once, confirming his suspicion. "I know. I was there."

It had been as bad for her as he'd feared, watching Peter's murder, knowing her own attack was imminent, being helpless and outnumbered. He felt his chin tremble at the thought. Yes, she'd had a terrible experience, but he'd had one too. He'd had to walk in that house, had to find Peter's body, had to find his partner unconscious and bloody and near death, had to fight for the right to save her, and even then, had to keep that horror to himself because he wouldn't burden her with it.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "But you're ok now."

Her mouth opened as though to dispute his statement, but in true Olivia fashion, she ended up nodding. Whatever she was feeling, however much pain she was in, it wasn't bad enough that she'd confide it to him. It was a comfort that she was ok enough to remember that. It meant she was getting better. When he'd found her in the kitchen that morning, she certainly hadn't been in any shape to deny it.

The drugs slowed her down, but he saw the moment her eyes turned back to him, curiosity shining through them. But her words weren't inquiring. "You weren't there."

Guilt slammed him with a two-by-four. He looked down, fairly sure he wouldn't be able to stop the tears or the sobs that threatened to escape. He shook his head, feeling that she deserved some type of answer from the partner who hadn't been there when she needed him.

Her hand clutching his brought his eyes back to her face. "It wasn't your fault. That's not what-"

He shook his head again. "No, I wasn't there. I should have been." He didn't want to remind her why; that he'd been busy licking his wounds while she was being attacked.

She shook her head again, her eyes squeezing shut after the fact, her hand tightening for a moment. "Jesus, I'm dizzy." Before he had the chance to answer, she noticed the IV bag that hung over her left side. "Pain meds, I guess."

Elliot nodded mutely, still contemplating begging for forgiveness, except he wasn't sure he deserved it. Even saving her life with his kidney didn't make up for not having been there to prevent her needing his kidney in the first place.

"How did you get hurt?"

The fact that he was in a wheelchair and donning a hospital gown had not escaped her notice. It brought a smile to his face despite the guilt he felt for her situation. Of course Olivia would realize he was injured even while she was so jacked up on morphine that she didn't know what had happened to her own body.

He took a deep breath, suddenly nervous about telling the truth of what had happened. He'd already told her he loved her, but somehow, telling her that he'd given her a kidney was harder. Perhaps because giving her a part of his own body said "I love you" in an entirely different, permanent, unequivocal way, a way that even a marriage license didn't quite meet.

And perhaps because there was always the chance that she'd react the same way, especially considering there was no way for either of them to claim the sentiment had been somehow misconstrued.

Pulling his hands back to his lap, he tried to summon up the courage to explain himself. "You were hurt really bad, Liv."

He watched her eyes narrow and then turn to her still form under the blanket. She was wondering what he meant by really bad; if she was paralyzed or injured in such a serious way that she could never return to her work. And part of him dreaded quelling that fear because he wasn't sure how she'd receive the truth.

"Your kidneys failed." He winced at the memories that washed over him, keeping his composure only by reminding himself that she was awake and talking to him.

There was fear, worry, confusion in her eyes. "What does that mean?"

He could see her thoughts like they were his own, she was contemplating her own mortality, wondering if she was on the cusp of a new reality that involved being sick and visiting hospitals and doctors and never leading a normal life again.

His voice was soft, a faint whisper, as he pushed through the emotion; terror left over from his helplessness in the face of her condition, anxiety at the idea of how she'd react to the news. She was physically ok, but she'd be tied to him forever. That might scare her more than dying.

"You almost died." He swallowed, sick at the thought even though it was in the past, sick at the realization that she could reject the kidney and be in the same boat any time. "You were going to die."

Olivia was quiet for a long time, her face revealing her shock at the information. "Why didn't I?" She moved her head closer to the side of the bed, looking down at Elliot as though to confirm that he was in a wheelchair. Like always, she was desperate to redirect the discussion off her own frailty and onto someone else's. "And you never told me what happened to you."

Elliot met her eyes, knowing his grave stare gave her something of a warning regarding the weight of his next words. "I gave you my kidney."


	28. Chapter 28

Part Twenty-Eight

Before

If he were to look up the word dumbfounded in a dictionary, he was dead certain he'd find a picture of Olivia with that look on her face. Such utter shock, such complete confusion as to render her stare entirely blank. It was the look of those half-starved models in perfume ads, the one that said they'd never had so much as one thought enter their heads in all their lives.

Elliot swallowed hard. For her to be so surprised meant that the idea had never entered her mind as a possibility, no matter how remote. And for Olivia to have discounted the prospect meant that she wouldn't like it. She only ignored things that really bugged her.

"Liv?" He wanted to reach for her hand, but with the way she was staring at him, he feared touching her would send her over the edge.

Finally she blinked, the first sign she gave that she hadn't slipped into some sort of waking coma. Her face twisted around slowly, emotions trying to fight their way through as her mouth worked to form a word. "What?"

This was supposed to be the good part. This was supposed to be where he said, "I saved your life because I love you" and she said, "I love you too." This was supposed to be a cathartic release of pent-up, unresolved feelings between them.

Elliot wasn't supposed to fear bodily injury. He wasn't supposed to wish Huang would come back in to save him.

The muscles of her face eventually sorted out the myriad of emotions and settled on disgust. "You did what?" If she'd been able, she would have jumped up and attacked.

It couldn't have been any more painful to Elliot. The venom in her eyes cut him deep. He felt like an asshole, his chin actually trembling as he fought for the power of speech. "You were dying."

Her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at him; her anger and revulsion more evident than he'd ever seen when she was facing a perp. "Don't you need permission for something like that?"

Suddenly, Elliot was very, very glad he hadn't gotten a lawyer to override Simon's status as next-of-kin. He decided right then that he would never tell her how much he'd fought her brother. "Simon agreed. He wanted to save you too."

"I need some time." Seconds passed in silence while Olivia fought to regain her composure. But she couldn't keep the snarl from her face when she looked at him. "Leave me alone, Elliot," she spat the words at him like his name left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Olivia, please-" He reached for her hand, needing to find that connection, wanting to feel her squeezing him back, hoping for some sign that she was in shock, that her attitude toward the act would change someday.

She snatched her hand away from him, narrowing her eyes to tiny slits. "Get the hell away from me before I call security."

Devastated, Elliot nodded. He reached for the rims on the wheelchair, trying in his weakened state to follow her decree. Every part of him wanted to stay and argue. His instincts wanted him to fight, to insist that she listen to him, to demand that she recognize that he'd done exactly what she needed whether she liked it or not. But she looked terrible. She'd been so sick and she was still so sick and he didn't have the heart to hurt her.

Instead, he fumbled with his chair until he managed to turn it around, heading for the doorway, blinded by the tears running down his face.

Huang was waiting for him in the hallway, leaning on the wall, completely focused on his blackberry, clearly not expecting Elliot to be ready to leave so soon. The man was confused at first, distracted from his email by the racket Elliot was making, slamming his wheelchair into the doorway as he tried to escape the pain.

"Jesus, Elliot, what happened?" Huang shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped around to take over the work of propelling Elliot's chair.

He couldn't speak, couldn't stop the torrent of tears streaming down his face. He simply shook his head, unable to even comprehend what had happened let alone relate the tale to someone else.

Huang seemed to understand somehow anyway, perhaps due to his innate ability to crawl inside people's heads that made him a good psychiatrist. He patted Elliot's shoulder as they waited for the elevator. "Olivia's just been through a terrible trauma, Elliot. She'll need time to adjust to what she's been through and what she's going to have to face to get better."

Elliot nodded, wanting to believe that was all, not convinced time would fix it.

"I can talk to her, see how she's feeling."

He sniffled and tried to put himself back together. "I just wanted to save her. I didn't do anything wrong."

Huang squeezed Elliot's shoulder again. "She just woke up, Elliot. Give her some time."

"She hates me. She hates me for saving her. She won't even look at me." Hiccupping, Elliot wiped his nose on his sleeve like a disconsolate child. The truth was, he wasn't sure that the transplant had anything to do with her attitude. It was simply adding insult to injury. She hated him for falling in love with her. She just hated him. That he'd had the audacity to give her a kidney was the last straw, tying her to him forever.

No, he was fairly certain all the time in the world wouldn't fix what was broken there. But then he had an idea. She'd been so mad the night before she'd been stabbed. While he focused on finally telling her he loved her, she'd been transfixed by what she'd thought had been him taking an awful risk with her. She'd really thought he would have suggested trading her to Eugeny if there'd been any possibility Eugeny would accept his deal. Elliot had known that Vasya was the Simonovichs' daughter and Olivia was in no danger whatsoever of having that slime ball touch her. He would have liked to have the opportunity to explain his plan to her beforehand, but he'd expected that his partner trusted him. What was worse was that even after the fact, when he'd told her how he'd known, it hadn't been enough for her. She'd been so pissed at him.

The idea heartened him. Maybe that issue was still foremost in her mind; maybe because they'd had limited interaction afterwards. She'd been sick that morning and hadn't been speaking to him the last time they'd been together. He hoped that was the reason she was so mad, that it was something she would come to understand, that she would forgive him. Because then she would eventually realize that Elliot giving her a kidney wasn't wrong.

He'd been warned of the very real danger of rejection. Still, he'd been so happy that he'd been able to donate at all; he knew there was still a chance her body would rebel and refuse the kidney anyway, but he'd never considered the possibility of a non-physical rejection, of a mental rejection, of Olivia rejecting a kidney simply because it was his. He had no idea if it was possible, but he imagined that Olivia not wanting the kidney to work out would have a detrimental on her body's acceptance of it in the long run. He had to hope she would come around before her attitude hurt her physically.

By the time Huang rolled him back into his room, Elliot had decided the psychiatrist was right. Olivia just needed time. Then she would be ok; then she would realize there was nothing to forgive him for, then she would ask to see him.

Until then, he would just have to wait. And hope she was healthy.


	29. Chapter 29

Part Twenty-Nine

Before

He was discharged from the hospital on Tuesday afternoon with strict instructions to take it easy. Normal donors were free to return to work four or five weeks after surgery, but with Elliot's job, he was looking at a solid eight off. He couldn't exercise or even drive and so begrudgingly asked Kathy for a ride. The relationship with his wife was about as up in the air as the one with Olivia. He hadn't moved out, but Kathy had made her feelings on the subject clear and Elliot's decisions had said plenty as well.

But the paperwork said heavy lifting was restricted for six weeks, therefore moving was out. That didn't mean he couldn't find a place to live though. He already had a mental list of calls to make. He'd have a new place before he went back to work.

Kathy arrived at the hospital a good half hour after they'd arranged to meet, offering neither an excuse nor a smile. "Are you ready to go?"

Elliot was sitting on the bed he'd had enough of to last the rest of his natural life, a paper shopping bag full of random papers and shit he'd accumulated during the four day stay dangling from his fingers. Munch had brought him a book on the Kennedy assassination; Cragen had brought some kind of fern. He was tempted to leave both behind, but instead had shoved them into the bag with his instructions and follow up doctors' appointment cards. Fin had smuggled in hamburgers and if Elliot ever had the occasion to stay in a hospital again, he was going to request the same from everyone. Hamburgers were infinitely more useful than plants and books.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Realizing Kathy wasn't going to extend the courtesy of volunteering to carry the small bag, he slipped off the bed and onto his feet. Again he contemplated leaving the bag there, but wound up gripping the handles tightly, trying to channel his irritation with Kathy away from his vocal cords. He was sore, but not really in any pain. It was more like he'd pulled a muscle than had his insides scrambled. The only real discomfort came from the healing incisions that itched until he scratched and then hurt like a mother.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the pair as they walked to the car. It was obvious that Kathy felt she was owed an apology, likely an apology she wouldn't even accept, but Elliot didn't think there was anything to be sorry for. The only regret Elliot had, and it was a big one, was that he hadn't tried to visit Olivia again. He'd tried to respect her wishes and promised to leave her alone, but she still hadn't asked for him yet. Nevertheless, he believed she would. She was sick, she'd been through a lot and it had only been a few days. Crowding her wasn't going to get him anywhere.

As Kathy pulled out of the parking garage, she glanced over at him. "Do you need to stop anywhere?"

He had about a hundred prescriptions – pain killers, muscle relaxants, anti-depressants – but he didn't intend on taking any of them. His pain wasn't that bad, and when something occasionally hurt particularly badly, it only served to remind him of what he'd done. Saving Olivia's life was all the anti-depressant he needed.

Kathy saw the small smile that had formed on his lips, but she said nothing.

When they reached the house, Elliot saw she'd made him a spot in the living room, more likely to remind him that they weren't on good terms than out of concern with his recuperation. There was a pile consisting of a blanket, sheet, and pillow lying on the couch. The remote was sitting on the coffee table. Next to the couch sat his suitcase, open to display the packed contents. She might as well have hung a sign on the door that said "Elliot Stabler is not welcome here."

He tried not to resent it, since he'd been planning on moving out even before Kathy had made her silent decree that he was expected to do so, but he still found it irritating. He'd paid way more than half the mortgage payments; the down payment on the house had come from his mother. The twins were about to start college. He could have argued for the house. He could have insisted on selling it and splitting the cash. But it wasn't worth it. Kathy's cold heart toward Olivia's illness had been it for him; Elliot could never forgive or forget it. He wanted done with the marriage as soon as possible and disputing ownership of the house was only going to increase any contact they'd have.

He settled down on the couch, unexpectedly winded from coming home after having been restricted to bed for so long. Clicking on the TV he wasn't the least bit interested in watching, he listened for Kathy to go up the steps or to announce she was going back to work or something. He wanted to call Huang and get an update on how Olivia was doing, but he had enough sense not to do with when Kathy might overhear. He felt like he was too far away from his partner, like he wouldn't be close enough to get to her if she asked to see him.

Rather than going upstairs though, Kathy came into the living room and perched on the chair adjacent to the couch. Her face was apprehensive, leading Elliot to switch off the TV. He knew she had something to say, but she said nothing.

Elliot stared at her, tempted to scream "spit it out already." Finally, he sighed and resigned himself to breaking the silence. "What's up?"

Kathy bit her lip, took a breath, and then shrugged. "This is going to be so uncomfortable for both of us and it's clear what your feelings are." She shifted around, her eyes landing anywhere but on his. "I've got some things packed already. I'm going to stay with a friend for a few days until you're able to find some place."

He felt like she'd thrown a bowling ball at his stomach. Yeah, he'd given his kidney to the woman he'd fallen in love with, but his wife of over twenty years refusing to sleep under the same roof with him still hurt. It took him a moment to get his breath back and he swallowed hard, unexpectedly angered by Kathy's attitude.

"You'll need to find a place too. We'll have to put the house on the market." He didn't know why he wanted to be rotten; he just did. Elliot wasn't the sort to lie down and avoid an argument. He liked to spread around the misery, so everyone could experience how he was feeling.

Kathy's mouth dropped open, revealing her shock that Elliot wasn't just going to give her the house.

Which, really, was why he'd said it. Simply because she'd decided it belonged to her despite him breaking his back to pay for it.

Kathy, however, wasn't in the mood to fight about it. She simply stood up and stepped toward the door. "Ok, we'll have to do that then. The kids know where I am and I'll have Eli with me, of course."

Elliot's mood had soured and he felt like fighting. He couldn't argue about the kids. The twins didn't need much parenting really and Elliot was in no shape to care for a three-year-old. "So this friend you're moving in with is a guy?"

Kathy's head cocked to the side as she glared, her expression answering his question in a way words couldn't. "I'm not the one who walked away, Elliot. Try to remember that."

"It sure looks like you're walking away."

"You're awfully fucking concrete sometimes." She didn't say another word, just pulled the door closed behind her.

Frustrated by the thwarted attempt to fight and by Olivia's continued rejection, Elliot sighed and slumped back against the couch. He couldn't accept that saving Olivia's life had been a mistake, and yet, it appeared to have ruined everything in his life, including his relationship with Olivia. His head dropped back and he stared at the ceiling in the eerie silence, not bothering to wipe at the tears that streaked down his cheeks. There was no one there to see them.


	30. Chapter 30

Part Thirty  
Before

The afternoon passed with him alternately padding around the house and staring at the walls, wondering what to do with himself. His entire adult life had been spent in motion, working, fighting, running, trying. Any free moment was used for sleep in between sixteen hour work days and screaming kids. He'd always thought he was missing something by being at work all the time, and perhaps he had when the children were younger, but one afternoon in the empty house was enough to convince him he'd made the right call for all those years.

When there was finally some movement besides his own listlessness, it did nothing to make him feel any better. Lizzie and Dickie arrived home, announcing their imminent arrival to the neighborhood by blasting music over the horrible sounds of the clunker Toyota they'd pooled their savings to buy. They were having an animated fight over some band Elliot had never heard of, bickering over which one of them was dumber – the one who'd bought the CD or the one who didn't like the lead singer. Lizzie was pinching him and rolling her eyes at the same time Dickie was calling her a dipshit while offering her the bag of chips he was eating. Elliot smirked, thinking for a moment of how the good-natured bickering reminded him of his friendship with Olivia – they could insult each other, but lord help any outsider who dared the same. He imagined having a twin was much like having a partner. They were a pair, for better or worse, forever.

The thought of Olivia, the thought of their relationship, the thought of how even he, despite years of disputing the suggestion to others, considered their status as close as a marriage – it sent pain shooting through him, so intense he couldn't be certain he didn't need to be rushed to the hospital.

He groaned in agony, calling the attention of his suddenly silent children. Dickie only looked at him long enough to assess that he wasn't an intruder. Lizzie stared a moment longer, her eyes not meeting his, her face revealing her utter discomfort. But in the end and without a single word, they simply chose to walk away and pretend they hadn't seen anything.

Elliot was pretty sure he knew what it was like to be a ghost. He had always been tall, strong, and imposing. He'd never been the sort of guy people didn't see; he'd always been the sort they deferred to out of fear for their safety. He'd never felt invisible. He didn't like that his only effect on people was an odd sort of discomfort that he was still hanging around. He didn't like it one bit.

Gathering his strength, he stood up and followed the messy path the twins left on their way through the house. There was a backpack, a shoe, then a sweatshirt, another backpack. The discarded items led Elliot to the kitchen where he found Dickie sitting on the counter eating Lucky Charms out of the box while Lizzie was rearranging plastic containers in the freezer.

The girl looked up at her brother, her blonde ponytail waving as her head moved. "Chicken or beef?"

Dickie frowned and pulled open a drawer with his filthy sock-clad feet, revealing a stack of take out menus. "How about Chinese?"

"Mom didn't leave any Chinese." Totally missing the point, the girl finally selected a container with a green lid. "Actually," she corrected herself, revealing that she had been listening to her other half, "Mom didn't leave any money for Chinese."

Since neither of the kids had taken any notice of him, Elliot spoke up, wanting to feel like he actually existed. "How about I order us a pizza?"

Lizzie nearly dropped the frozen mystery concoction. Dickie swallowed hard, bursting into a coughing fit from half-chewed cereal going down the wrong way. After a long, disquieting moment, while his sister remained inordinately fascinated by the note on the lid that listed the simple instructions 'bake at 350 for an hour,' Dickie shrugged.

With about as much enthusiasm as he might have had if Elliot had suggested road kill, the boy glanced at his twin. "Uh, yeah, whatever."

Lizzie's eyes went wide, obviously believing that even acknowledging her father was a sacrilege. She made no attempt to hide the way she punched Dickie's arm. "We're fine." She busied herself with turning on the oven and only when it became apparent that he wasn't walking away did she turn back to her father. "Mom left us food."

With the strong suspicion he'd get the same response if he offered them a million dollars, Elliot shook his head. "Never mind." He started walking, trying to decide what to do. The kids didn't need him, didn't want him. And the living room walls weren't going to miss him either. He headed for the front door, calling back to the teenagers almost as an afterthought. "I'm going out for a while." He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't expect one.

He was winded in two blocks. He stopped halfway down the third to hail a cab. It wasn't a luxury he would have considered usually, certainly not with a divorce and child support about to come due. But driving wasn't allowed yet per the doctors and while they had encouraged exercise, he didn't think walking to Manhattan the day he was discharged was quite what they had in mind.

He told the cabbie to take him to New York Presbyterian and then he sat back in his seat. The traffic would give him plenty of time to think about his decision to go against Olivia's wishes. But the fact was he was going to continue to be miserably disconcerted and feel out of sorts until he talked to her. The problem wasn't that he was invisible; the problem was that without Olivia the world was invisible. Hell, even with Olivia the world ceased to exist. He didn't know how it had happened, but the fact remained. Olivia was his world and until things were straight with her, nothing was going to feel right.

As sure as he was of his choice, he started to second guess himself the closer he got to her. There was dread in the pit of his stomach when he walked through the front doors of the hospital. He was nauseous as he rode in the elevator. His feet weren't even coming off the ground by the time he shuffled to her door. Once he was there, he paused a moment and asked himself what the fuck he was afraid of.

His partner had nearly died. He'd donated one of his organs. His wife wanted a divorce. His kids couldn't stand to talk to him. Olivia had already thrown him out of her room. He'd spent more time crying the previous two weeks than he had in his entire life.

And so fucking what if he broke down crying in front of Olivia again. He'd survived it the first time. She was alive and he was pretty sure no doctor would actually remove the kidney even if she were angry enough to ask.

Besides, it was hardly the first time they'd come down on opposite sides of an important issue. They'd work through it. They'd get over it. They'd find some middle ground.

With a deep breath and that conviction in his head, he knocked softly as a warning and pushed open the door.

Those four days had made a world of difference in his own health. He'd been expecting that having a working kidney for four days would help erase some of the damage of having had hers fail. But she looked awful. She was pale and thin and her saucer-wide pupils behind half closed lids revealed that while his pain medicine had been tapered off, hers had not. Her skin was slicked with sweat that had seeped into her hair, leaving the dark strands matted against her pillow. Multiple IV bags still hung beside her bed, connected to her forearm, where a line of bandages and large bruises showed multiple failed connections. Three monitors beeped disharmonious tones in uneven intervals.

He felt like he'd just taken another sucker punch to the gut. He'd been expecting Olivia to be sitting up in bed, perfectly healthy, ready to bitch at him for not coming soon enough or too soon or something.

Fuck, he'd been afraid of crying in front of her again and there he was, tears streaming down his face and she was too stoned to even know who he was. No fucking wonder she hadn't asked for him.

He reached out, gently laying a finger against her cheek, pushing her hair back. Her hair was damp and her skin was burning hot. He'd been busy feeling sorry for himself that she wasn't thankful for him saving her when it was entirely possible that all he'd done was postpone her death.

Needing to do something for her, recognizing that even drugged she had to be uncomfortable with such a high fever, he ducked into the bathroom and doused some paper towels with cool water. He wrung out them out and then folded them carefully, laying one across her forehead, using the others to gently wipe her cheeks and throat. He'd done the same thing countless times for sick kids while waiting for Tylenol to kick in. It was all he knew to do.

A few minutes later, as the last towel began to disintegrate, he felt her body shudder as chills raked through her. He pulled the thin blankets up over her shoulders, taking special care not to jar the arm holding the IV. He tucked the blanket around her on all sides, looking through around the small room for another blanket. All he saw was the empty closet and an abandoned, uncomfortable looking chair with a half-dead fern resting on the seat.

Of course Cragen had brought them the same thing. Elliot shook his head, momentarily distracted by the idea of his boss buying two ferns for his codependent detectives. Just like Elliot had once bought matching everythings for his twins. One in the same. He knew it. Cragen knew it. Even Olivia probably knew it. She might be putting up a fuss, but he suspected somewhere deep down, she knew it the same as he did.

Her eyes widened slightly, finally seeming to notice he was there. "El?"

Her shaky whisper brought a smile to his face.

"Yeah, I'm here." He reached for her hand, squeezing it, reassuring her of his presence since she didn't appear to mind it right then.

"Cold." Her chin started to tremble, her teeth chattering as if to prove her point.

"I'll get you another blanket. Be right back." He hated the thought of leaving her, but he hated that she was cold even more. He ran out into the hallway, grabbing the first person he saw in scrubs. "Please, she's cold, she needs a blanket." He didn't wait to see if the woman would do as he asked, instead he went straight back to Olivia's side. "Blanket's on its way." He ran his hand along her cheek, his fingers trailing into her hair, getting caught on the tangles there.

He pulled his hand free, looking for the crappy toiletries he'd found in his own room when he'd been so bored he'd started exploring. Right where he expected, he found a small basin, miniature pitcher, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a small comb in matching mustard-colored plastic that reminded him of his mother's "Harvest Gold" appliances from the seventies. Just as he pulled the comb from the plastic wrap, a nurse walked in with some blankets.

"How's Olivia doing tonight?"

It took all of his strength not to throw the cheap plastic set at her. How the fuck did Olivia appear to be doing? He figured the hospital staff should have a fucking clue. "She's burning up and taking chills. What the hell is going on?"

The nurse looked guilty, as though she'd been caught out having a smoke rather than checking on her patients. "We've been monitoring the fever." She stretched the blankets out and covered Olivia with them, though not bothering to do it the careful way Elliot had. "The doctor's hoping it's an infection, but we won't know for sure until tomorrow."

"You're hoping? For an infection? She's sick as a dog and she just got a kidney transplant and you're hoping for a fucking infection? What the hell is the matter with you?"

The nurse folded her arms over her chest and jutted out her chin. "If it's not an infection, it's most likely her body rejecting the kidney. So, yeah, we're hoping for an infection." Seeing the devastated reaction on Elliot's face, her attitude softened. "She's been started on antibiotics since this morning. Her temperature isn't climbing anymore, so that's a good sign."

Elliot looked down at Olivia who once again didn't seem to have any idea what was going on. "She could be rejecting it?" The wind was knocked right out of him and he felt like he was going to fall.

Evidently, he looked like it as well, because the nurse rushed over to his side. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head, unashamed of the tears that started up again so easily. "It's my kidney. I gave it to her. That's what's making her so sick?" He hated himself in that moment, thinking that it was a part of his body that was causing her such misery.

The nurse's eyes widened and she moved quickly, moving Cragen's plant onto the floor and pulling the chair over to him. "You should sit down. If you just had surgery yourself…"

Elliot more or less collapsed into the chair at the woman's urging, gripping the tiny comb in his hand so tightly he could feel the teeth biting into his palm. "She's going to die anyway?"

"We really don't know anything yet. It could be an infection, like I said. And even if it is an episode of rejection, they happen all the time. It doesn't mean it's permanent or that she'll have to have the kidney removed." She squeezed his shoulder, probably trying to assess if she needed to call for more help with a new patient.

He just shook his head, as much at himself as at anything the nurse had said, his eyes locked on Olivia's shivering form. "I made her this sick."

The nurse stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Olivia. "You didn't make her this sick, sir. If I remember her case correctly, she was in a coma near death before she got the kidney. At the very least, you've given her more time." She smiled. "And if this is merely an infection, you saved her life."

"Ok, yeah, I'm fine." Elliot nodded, realizing the nurse wasn't going to leave him alone until she believed he was ok. He wasn't ok; far from it. But what he needed most of all, besides Olivia getting better, was to be alone with her. That was why he'd gone there in the first place.

The nurse looked nervous about leaving, but she backed up a few steps. "You're sure you're ok? Is there anyone I can call for you?"

No. There was no one. The only person who really cared whether he lived or died was near death herself.

He shook his head, climbing to his feet again if only to prove how fucking fine he was. "No, it's ok. I'll stay with her for a while."

Her face fell, her eyes darting to the sign about visiting hours being strictly enforced on the post-surgical ward, but she finally smiled. "Yeah, ok. For a little bit."

As soon as the woman was gone, Elliot turned back to Olivia. "It's just an infection, Liv. You've got the medicine and now you're going to get all better." He couldn't deal with the possibility of rejection. He just couldn't. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he blinked away his tears and resumed his previous plan: combing out her hair. Olivia would be mortified when she got better and realized how disheveled she'd looked. Making a mental note to talk to some sort of supervisor about seeing her grooming attended to until she was well enough to do it herself, Elliot separated a small section of her hair and started working out the knots.

He started at the bottom, the way he'd seen his wife and daughters do a million times, slowly working backwards until one section was free of tangles. Then he took another section and repeated the process. Olivia's eyes finally closed while he worked, her chills dying off either from the medicine or the extra blankets. He supposed she needed the rest, what with how hard her body was working to get better, and, quite frankly, the open-eyed, drug-blanked stare wasn't really all that comforting to him.

By the time he finished with her hair, he was exhausted. He stepped back, pulling the loose hairs from the comb and dropping them into the trash. He didn't know how long the nurse would allow him to stay; he imagined she'd forgotten about him entirely and wouldn't remember he was there until she came back in to check on Olivia. Not wanting to risk upsetting the people taking care of his partner, he figured he'd sit down and rest for a few moments until he gathered the strength to walk out of the hospital.

But he was more exhausted than he realized and fell asleep within seconds of sitting down.

When he woke, it was to a soft, sweet voice whispering his name.


	31. Chapter 31

Part Thirty-One  
Before

The confusing fog of sleep hadn't quite left him when consciousness pulled his eyes open. He saw the sight he'd wanted to see for so long, familiar brown eyes holding his, no anger or confusion or pain reflected there.

"Hey." His lips curled into a smile, not quite recognizing yet where he was.

Her lips quirked upwards too, her eyes clear and focused. "Hey, yourself, sleepyhead."

He shook his head, turning it side to side to work out the kinks in his neck from sleeping in the awful chair. In looking around, he remembered that he was in the hospital, that Olivia had been terribly sick, that the last time they'd spoken had resulted in him running away in tears. He smiled again, hoping her welcome meant there wouldn't be a repeat performance.

Though she was still pale and hardly looked like she was in good health, her eyes weren't glassy and her skin had a slightly more normal pink pallor. He wanted to hug her for simply being conscious, settling instead for squeezing her hand. "How are you feeling?"

She pulled her hand from his and looked away. "Like the pain killers wore off." She winced when she tried to shift her shoulders, causing Elliot to spring from his chair.

"Here, let me help." He reached out, one hand already lifting her back off the bed before he noticed the way she shoved at him.

"Stop, it's ok." She looked angry as he lowered her back down. "Jesus, I don't need your help."

Had he been any less excited to see her coherent, he might have fired back a smart-ass comment about how much she'd needed his help a few days earlier. Instead, he tucked his hands into his pockets and felt stupid for touching her. "So how are you feeling besides the pain meds?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Tired. Hot."

Instinctively, he reached for her to lay his hand on her forehead, only to have her jerk away again. "Guess your fever's coming down."

"All this shit must be doing something." She glanced up at the IV bags attached to her arm.

"That's good." Elliot checked his watch, realizing he'd only been asleep a little over an hour. "Earlier they were afraid you might be rejecting the kidney." He saw the twitch of muscles in her throat and jaw as she tried to hide her distaste. "What's done is done, Liv. Now you just have to get better. You can kill me over it later."

She didn't even answer him, instead using her obviously waning strength to hit the call button for the nurse. A tinny voice sounded through the speaker in the wall, asking what Olivia needed. "I'm in a lot of pain. I need something for it."

If Olivia was requesting pain killers, Elliot knew she had to be hurting badly.

But then she looked back at him, annoyed that he was still standing there. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Like where?" The notion that he belonged anywhere except next to her was preposterous.

"Like home with your family."

"Liv-"

She cut him off. "Go home, Elliot."

"Please, Liv," he whispered, her anger cutting through the happiness he'd experienced seeing her awake. "I know you're mad, but can we please just drop it for now?" He really didn't understand the problem. If he'd been the one needing the kidney, he would have been tickled pink had Olivia been willing to donate to him. As it was, he just wanted to be there, near her, enjoying the fact that she was awake.

She glared at him, her normally formidable stare losing its bite while she seemed so weak. "Go home. I want to be alone."

His hand moved towards her, his brain completely ignoring the fact that she'd already rebuffed him repeatedly, his fingers barely lighting on the strands of her hair before she batted him away again. "You need me more than home does right now."

"I know I have a living will."

Elliot shook his head, realizing she was more doped up than he'd originally thought. "Liv, you're not even making sense right now. I'm not going to fight with you."

"I'm sure there's some sort of protocol for people in comas so they don't have random strangers making their medical decisions." Even as she continued to argue, she was weakening, her eyes drifting closed and her breath hitching against some pain Elliot couldn't fathom.

"That is so ridiculous I'm not even going to touch it." Equating him with a random stranger was really about the lowest she could go. Elliot chalked it up to the pain she was in; Olivia wasn't usually the sort to hit below the belt.

She squeezed the call button again, her frustration showing in her angry shout when the nurse's voice came through the speaker again. "Where the hell is my medicine?"

Elliot reached out, knowing she'd hate him for it, and pulled the call button from her hand anyway, hoping to stop her from calling them a third time. "They'll be here soon enough to knock you back into a trance." He left it deliberately out of her reach, expecting she was in too much pain to even try to get it.

"Not soon enough for me." She made a grab for the button, but gave up with a pained whimper. Her eyes closed as she fought back tears which escaped anyway. "Elliot, go home, please. Just leave me alone."

Elliot shook his head, stopping himself from trying to comfort her with a touch only because she wouldn't accept it anyway. "No, Liv. I'm not leaving you alone."

Her eyes opened, reflecting gut-wrenching anguish no pain killers would touch. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He wasn't sure any more medicine was a good idea; not if she wasn't making any sense when she appeared to be lucid.

The sound of the door being pushed open called Elliot's attention. It was the same nurse from earlier, startled when she saw he was still there. "It's after visiting hours, sir."

"He was just leaving." Olivia blinked away the tears as her eyes followed the nurse injecting a syringe into the plastic tubing of the IV. "Go home, Elliot."

He caught the nurse's eye with a forced smile. "Think you might want to cut back on those meds. She was pretty spaced out when I came in. She's still kind of out of it." He didn't need to look back at his partner; he could feel the daggers Olivia's eyes were shooting at him, resenting him for taking about her like she wasn't there.

The nurse shook her head. "She's taking a lot less than most people would. She's in a considerable amount of pain when she asks for them. And you really need to leave. She needs her rest."

He felt like an ass, having to be told something he was already well aware of. He wasn't angry that Olivia was getting pain medication; he was angry that she needed it. He nodded, starting to back up from the bed, wishing the few minutes he'd spent with her had been better.

But he stopped and reached out, taking hold of her hand, running his thumb lightly over the back. "I'll see you later, Liv. Feel better."

Her eyes were hooded once again, but they snapped to meet his. "Don't come back here. I don't want to talk to you."

His mouth dropped open, expecting some mercy from the high, shocked that she'd said something like that in front of the nurse who would undoubtedly believe that she actually meant it. "Liv-"

Olivia's eyes went to the nurse, who was standing there with utter confusion written all over her delicate features, and said words that couldn't possibly be misinterpreted. "Elliot Stabler. Don't let him in here again."

"Olivia!" He wanted to shake her hard until she realized what she was saying. But he was afraid she knew exactly what she was saying.

The nurse looked nervous as she stepped toward him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

"She's drugged up. She doesn't know what she's saying. She doesn't mean that." He looked back at Olivia, hoping she'd have passed into a drug-induced stupor which he could use as evidence of his claim, but she hadn't.

Her eyes were narrowed and cold. "The fuck I don't."

"I'm going to have to call security if you don't leave now."

All the tenderness he'd felt toward Olivia was gone as he glared back at her. He understood she was in a rough spot, having just faced being stabbed and her kidneys failing, but he was pissed as hell at her. "Fuck you, Liv. Call me when you're done being a bitch."

The meds were kicking in finally, he could see it in the length of time it took for her to process his words, but her irritation with him remained. "Don't hold your breath."

Luckily, his fury gave him the strength he needed to get halfway home before the wounds she'd inflicted actually started to hurt.

The anti-rejection drugs were doing a number on her. In order to keep her body from recognizing and attacking the transplanted kidney as something foreign and dangerous, the anti-rejection medicine suppressed her immune system. It was hard to find the right balance, apparently, between enough meds to keep the kidney and not so many as to annihilate her body's ability to fight off germs. According to Huang, who was Elliot's only source of information, Olivia only just managed to get over one infection when another would spring up. For the next four weeks, every time Elliot phoned Huang, he heard one of two things – either the infection was clearing up or she was spiking another fever. And of course, each time Olivia ran an impossibly high fever, the doctors would throw around the idea of it being rejection, for the sole purpose of, in Elliot's mind, scaring the crap out of him.

Though he doubted even Olivia could convince the doctors to make stuff up just to terrify him, Elliot knew if anyone could, it would be her.

She'd carried through on her words to the nurse, informing everyone who would listen that Elliot wasn't welcome. He found that out when he'd tried to visit her again, finding himself unceremoniously escorted off the property by three security guards threatening to have him arrested. And even Huang, who'd always understood Elliot's need to know Olivia was ok, was growing more and more reticent about taking his calls. The psychiatrist was trying to walk that fine line between helping Elliot and respecting Olivia's directive not to.

Elliot was certain that she would eventually see the light and forgive him. Or she would hate him forever and he'd just have to wait until she was better to fight with her. He didn't want to consider the latter because it would just drive home the fears he'd had regarding telling her he loved her in the first place.

Instead of sitting around and worrying about it, or stewing over the fact that she wouldn't even let him see her, Elliot focused his attention on getting himself back to work. He worked out harder than his doctor suggested, expelling his rage on the punching bag at the gym, trying to burn off all of his energy so that when he was home he'd be too tired to think about the mess with Olivia.

Talk about a royal fucking clusterfuck.

Elliot's single-minded determination worked. Though his doctor was still sticking steadfastly to the decree that he could not possibly work in his regular capacity for another four weeks, Elliot had impressed the man enough to get clearance to go back to work at a desk two weeks early. It was funny, at least to someone somewhere, how Elliot missed the call from Huang that Olivia was finally being discharged from the hospital because he was busy cursing at rush hour drivers on his first day back to work.

Being back at the precinct was weird. He hadn't seen anyone for weeks. And they all acted like what he had was contagious. He could tell, by the awkward silence that fell over groups when he walked past, that they were talking about it. But he wondered what about the situation they were discussing - if it was simply the act of donating a kidney to his partner or if perhaps Olivia's reaction had made him look even more insane to his coworkers. Though it wasn't her style to talk about people behind their backs, Elliot feared everyone knew anyway. They treated him like a pariah.

Olivia had made her thoughts regarding his feelings clear. She'd made her thoughts regarding his actions clear. She'd made her own feelings clear to the hospital staff. It was definitely possible she'd made them clear to the entire NYPD as well.

By the time two more weeks had passed, the rumor mill had grown bored with him. He didn't do anything interesting enough for them to speculate about anymore; he just sat in his chair and pushed papers around and answered the phone. Sometimes he'd catch himself looking up, his eyes automatically moving to where Olivia's would be, something to tell her on the tip of his tongue. Then he'd remember she hated his fucking guts so much that she'd had him banned from the hospital.

He wondered how she'd survive coming back to the job she loved to find the man she hated sitting right where he'd always been. He wondered how long she'd be able to stand looking at him before she bailed and devoted herself to a new calling in parking violations. She'd done it before; she'd do it again. When Olivia decided she didn't want to deal with him, she wouldn't. Period.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when he came to a startling realization. She loved her job, but she'd leave it to get away from him.

And he just couldn't do that to her. He loved her too fucking much to chase her away like that.

He'd have to leave, transfer himself, be long gone so she wouldn't have to face him when she finally found the strength to return.

He was willing to do that for her. He'd given up a kidney. He'd given up his pride. He'd lost his family. He'd started over alone in a shit-hole apartment with only the few belongings he could convince Dickie and a friend to help him carry with the promise of fifty bucks each.

He only had one thing left to give and he'd give up his job without hesitation.

For her. Anything for her.

He arranged to come in late on Thursday, claiming he had to see the doctor, blowing off Cragen's concerns about his health. He was going to go see her, one last time, to tell her he was giving up. She had won; the only thing left to do was wave the white flag at her door in the morning. He just needed to gather up his resolve and the tattered shreds of his dignity to face her for one last time.

He was going to tell her goodbye.


	32. Chapter 32

Part Thirty-Two  
_After_

_She didn't know what the fuck she was supposed to do. One minute she was standing there feeling like an ass that she was too tired to go with Eliot to get the car. The next minute she was shoved into a van by a bunch of armed men._

_And sadly, although she knew she should put up some kind of a fight, she was too damn tired. She really was an ass, she decided, as she sat in the van, clinging to Elliot's arm like a dumb fucking damsel in distress._

_And Elliot, in his typical overprotective way, had his arm stretched around in front of her as though his arm of steel might keep harm from coming her way._

_She kind of wanted to laugh at him. But she mostly wanted to hug him for it. For everything. She couldn't, though, because he'd let her. Because he was too fucking nice to draw the line and tell her to stay on her side of it. Because he knew she had no one besides him and that had been made abundantly clear when it was left to him to give her a damn kidney since there was no one else to volunteer. Because he felt so fucking bad for her that he'd actually done it._

_She would have been ashamed of herself if she weren't busy being so fucking tired._

_Olivia felt the moment he relaxed, heard his breath let out, felt his back press back into the seat beside her. She looked at him, unsure what had changed. He nodded at one of the men, the one flashing FBI credentials over the seat in front of them._

_Despite knowing they were safe for the moment, Elliot's arm stayed extended in front of her, his hand coming to rest on the outside of her knee. She knew it couldn't be good that they were being abducted by the FBI. She knew she should be curious as to what required that level of concern. But she wasn't. She was too tired, the combination of seeing Elliot for the first time in so long and the tension of seeing the man that obviously wanted to be anywhere else and yet felt too sorry for her to go there and the visit to the doctor proving to be a little too much._

_Her hands were still wrapped around Elliot's thick bicep and with the way his arm was around her, she realized resisting was just too much work. Her eyes were slipping closed already, the quiet hum of the motor, the utter silence of the van's occupants, the warmth that seemed to radiate from her partner's side. She felt her head slipping, her cheek coming to rest on the softness of his shirt._

_And she saw no reason to do anything about it as she drifted off to sleep._

_They might have been in the car for hours. Or it could have been a few minutes. Olivia's napping habits were too new for her to see any pattern to them. Sometimes she sat down to close her eyes for a moment and woke up six hours later. Other times, she got in bed for the night only to find herself back up and watching television fifteen minutes later. Therefore, she had no idea how thoroughly she'd embarrassed herself when she opened her eyes to see a very concerned Elliot looking at her._

_He still hadn't moved, his shoulder continuing to act as her pillow, his hand still wrapped around her knee. The worry on his face faded after a few moments and his mouth curved up into a smile. She could imagine the way he'd lord her weakness over her. He'd certainly teased her plenty the last time she'd fallen asleep leaning on him. She knew he didn't mind it; hell, who wouldn't enjoy the ego boost of having someone so obviously in love with them? Being so ridiculously obvious had probably saved her life too, because if Elliot hadn't felt bad for his pathetic, love-struck partner with the unrequited crush on him, he might have kept his damn kidney._

_His smile softened. "Hey, we're here."_

_Looking around, she saw little besides a parking lot full of unremarkable black vans and SUVs. It appeared they were parked in the fire lane of a small building, a row of mirror image buildings stretching down the block. Great, so the FBI had abducted them to an industrial park. As she slid across the seat and tried to ignore the way Elliot's arm had wormed its way around her shoulders, she stared at the men surrounding them._

_Slightly more curious than nervous, she leaned closer to him and asked, "Where's here?"_

_Elliot shrugged. "Not a fucking clue."_

_The group remained around them until they walked into the dull gray cinderblock building, backing off only a bit once they passed through the triple bullet-proof doors. None of them were saying anything, except to each other or occasionally, to a radio. Mentally comparing them to Huang, she decided they reminded her far more of Secret Service than FBI._

_As they shuffled into an elevator as a group, Olivia glanced up at Elliot, reading his pained, nervous expression. "Uh, El, are we sure they're Feds?"_

_Again, he shrugged, cracking a smile as the men glanced at them. "If they weren't, they probably would have killed us already, right?"_

_Olivia turned to her right, peering up at an imposing African-American man who was approximately twice Elliot's size, which at least explained why Elliot hadn't tried to fight his way free, not that he would have left her behind anyway. The man quickly glanced at her, his eyes somehow conveying acknowledgement while his face remained entirely impassive. She offered him a weak smile. "Any chance you got the wrong people here?"_

_His eyes darted to hers for another brief moment before fixing dead ahead again. "No."_

_Shrugging at no one in particular, Olivia lapsed back into silence. She didn't have one fucking clue what was going on. Neither did Elliot. And the people that did know apparently weren't sharing._

_Once upstairs, the group split apart. All but two of the men peeling off and disappearing behind doors that all looked the same. She imagined if she worked there that she'd get lost every time she went to the bathroom. Somehow, though, the two remaining men herded them into an office without accidentally leading them into a closet or ever saying a word. Once there, one of the men stationed himself between and slightly behind two chairs facing a large mahogany desk. The other, the man Olivia had questioned in the elevator, stood behind the door, his massive body likely as effective as a brick wall._

_The door behind the desk opened a moment later, a perfectly ordinary man stepping through, his suit coat unbuttoned, his tie askew. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the two other men and settled down in his leather chair. He then leaned forward over the desk, extending his hand toward Olivia first. "I'm David Shipley, Witness Relocation."_

_She forgot what she was doing halfway through the handshake, staring stupidly at the man who under normal circumstances she might have labeled extremely good-looking. Eventually, as Shipley awkwardly extracted his hand, Olivia turned to Elliot._

_It made her feel better to know she wasn't the only one who was thoroughly confused. And Elliot kind of looked ridiculously stupid with the way he was staring as well._

_Shipley attempted to shake Elliot's hand, but Elliot was having none of it. His shock had turned into glowering. Sitting back in his chair, Shipley pretended not to notice. He shuffled some files around on his desk, then batted his mouse to bring his monitor back to life. "So, congratulations, you're dead."_

_When his remark didn't merit the inquisitive responses it probably did from others, the FBI agent shifted in his seat, reaching into one of the plastic bins on his desk for a paper he offered to Olivia. "NYPD Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler were killed in a tragic accident this afternoon on the BQE."_

_Although Olivia glanced at the paper, which contained the story being leaked to the news outlets, she didn't take it. Neither did Elliot._

_No one seemed to know what to say for a long, silent moment. Despite her nap, she was still tired and sadly, Elliot's shoulder was out of reach. With her options limited, she decided to start the conversation, if only to get back to sleep sooner. "I don't understand." Her words were cut off by a yawn._

_Shipley nodded. "Your statement regarding the murder of Detective Peter Austopchuk, aka Petya Gavlik, and your own attempted murder is what we've been looking for to put the Simonvichs away." He offered a grin and a shake of the head. "You're the first person who has ever been willing to testify against them. And with your testimony, we've got both of them."_

_Elliot's head snapped toward her, she could feel the question before he asked it. "Both of them?"_

_She didn't want to talk about it. She hadn't wanted to give her statement. She was angry that she hadn't been lucky enough to block out the horror she'd witnessed, the horror that she'd suffered. Her mouth twisted involuntarily as she tried to pull herself together enough to speak. In the end, she bit her lip and nodded, praying her partner hadn't noticed the tears that had escaped._

_Elliot sat back in his chair with such a heavy sigh that Olivia nearly comforted him regardless of her own pain - it sounded like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "NYPD already put out a story, pictures and all, declaring Sarah Grant was murdered. You guys cross signals again?"_

_With a snicker and a shake of his head, Shipley turned his attention to a stack of papers beside him. He pulled out a folded up newspaper from the stack, tossing it across the space. "Which one of you is a pet project of Kurt Moss'?"_

_Son of a mother fucking bitch._

_Splashed across the front page of The Ledger was the picture of Olivia and Elliot that she had framed in her living room. Above it, the large headline screamed: "Partners At Work; Now In Life." _

_"How the hell did he even find out?" She couldn't look at the article. She knew she'd want to kill whoever had been his source. She also knew it hadn't been Elliot, even before his angry, reddened face assured her of his feelings on the subject._

_"We traced it as far as a passing connection with Simon Marsden. It seems Mr. Marsden is Moss' pharmacist. How the hell they got to talking about this and why the hell Moss decided it was front page news, well, that's what we're not clear on." Shipley was glaring at Olivia as though she had wanted all this to happen._

_And the hits just kept on coming._

_"He was jealous," she whispered, fighting to get out that much, hoping like hell she wouldn't have to repeat it. "Especially when I ended it."_

_Whether Shipley heard, didn't matter. Because Elliot had and he was perfectly happy to repeat it. "Jealous? Of what?"_

_She wondered if Elliot had any idea how unbelievably humiliating it was going to be to admit that the most serious relationship she'd been in since her teens had ended because her boyfriend was convinced she was in love with the man she was actually in love with. She supposed not, considering that he'd been happily married practically since he was a teen. Sure, he mentioned divorce from time to time, but after knowing him for so long, Olivia had long since learned better than to believe such a thing from him. He loved his wife and he would never, ever leave Kathy willingly. That was an absolute given._

_But Elliot was waiting for an answer and Shipley seemed quite thoroughly interested in it as well._

_"Of you." She turned to Elliot, trying not to look him in the eye, yet knowing there was no way to avoid it. She was drawn to him, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself she could make it without his pity. "He thought we were having an affair. I guess he's still mad." He'd been furious when she'd broken up with him, brushing off her declaration that he was jealous and possessive and claiming to know the real reason. Kurt had known full well that such a relationship would have gotten them split up if not fired. And that was precisely what the article had been trying to achieve._

_With a smug smile that told Olivia Shipley had money on just that answer in the pool, Shipley refolded the newspaper and put it back on the stack. "The media loves a hero as much as they love a villain. The local outlets jumped on this story. It could even get a mention on the national news tonight." He looked at Elliot. "Thanks to Moss, now there's a hit out on both of you and these people aren't playing."_

_Elliot reached into his pocket, withdrawing the paperwork from the doctor's office that Olivia had forgotten entirely. "Look, I don't give a shit about whatever case you want her help with. She needs medical treatment." He brandished the pile of papers like they were a sword meant to keep Shipley at bay._

_Shipley smirked. "Don't worry, Detective Benson's survival is of the utmost importance to us. We've been trying to nail these bastards for a long time." It was evident to Olivia that her life was desperately important to him, but only so far as the case would go. The fact was once she testified, her life would be expendable._

_Elliot narrowed his eyes at the man, more than ready to start a fight. But Olivia yawned again, pulling her partner's attention back to her. His anger disappeared, his hand reaching out to her. "Are you ok?"_

_Olivia was so damn embarrassed that she couldn't even keep herself awake during what she imagined should have been an important meeting that she brushed off Elliot's concern. It probably wasn't even really concern over her health; odds were better it was just something easier to fight over. Elliot loved having moral outrage to stand on while he was starting a fight. Even more embarrassing that not being able to stop yawning was the fact that, until Elliot had mentioned it, she'd completely forgotten she had a pressing need for medical care._

_Mortified as much by needing care as by forgetting she needed it, her face burned red, only exacerbating Elliot's worry._

_He was out of his chair in a second, squatting next to her, his hand reaching toward her face._

_The last fucking thing she needed was another caress he meant out of partnerly concern that she desperately tried to confuse as romantic intention. She smacked his hand away, letting her frustration with herself show on her face, hoping he'd think she was mad at him. And she was mad at him, but not for caring about her, rather, she was pissed off that he didn't love her._

_He looked crushed as he back away, flopping into his chair like she'd stolen his lollipop. It probably gave him a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day if he'd helped the poor, family-less, friendless woman who was in love with him. Well, fuck that. She wasn't there to make him feel good. No more than he was there to love her._

_Shipley looked back and forth between them, undoubtedly curious following the article and the kidney transplant and god only knew what else he'd been told. When two sets of eyes turned back to him, his eyebrows raised as if he were expecting an answer to a question. After a quiet moment, he must have realized he hadn't asked them anything, or perhaps that the question wasn't as obvious as he might have expected. "So, together or separate?"_

_Olivia yawned once again, wondering what he was talking about. Elliot seemed to have the same problem as he verbalized his confusion. "Huh?"_

_Shipley closed the folder in front of him and moved it into a different stack, then turned to punch some keys on his computer. "I'll warn you upfront, it'll probably be years before this actually comes to trial, so keep that in mind when you're deciding."_

_Glancing at Elliot, Olivia decided it was her turn to voice their joint confusion. "What are we deciding exactly?"_

_Laughing Shipley shook his head. "You're in the Witness Protection Program, both of you, until this goes to trial. So, are we placing you together or separately?"_

_Olivia was pretty sure she was completely fucking insane. So insane she was hallucinating._

_Elliot cleared his throat, a decidedly uncomfortable tone sounding in his voice when he spoke. "Let me get this straight, you want us to decide right now with no warning if we want to spend the next few years together in hiding?"_

_Shipley nodded, seeming to have grown very tired with the pair. "Yes."_

_Olivia could feel Elliot's eyes on her and she steadfastly stared at Shipley to avoid looking back. She didn't want him to see the fear, the hope. She couldn't let herself think about it. She faked a smile at Shipley. "We're partners. We work together. It's not like we're married or something." She hated having to say it, having to remind everyone of the truth that so often seemed to get confused in everyone's heads. She hated that they weren't married, that they weren't a couple, that there really was no legitimate reason for her heart to be soaring at the idea of playing house with Elliot for the foreseeable future. She hated that she still wanted it so much even though the last time had ended so badly. She hated that one second of eye contact with her partner and he'd know how very much she wanted him to agree._

_"No, but he did just give you a kidney." Shipley was typing again, probably planning their lives, together or apart, didn't make much difference to him._

_Reminded of her tragic familial situation, Olivia's temper flared, she wondered why everything always had to come back to the fact that she was alone, except for her poor, overburdened partner. "Not with my permission." She dared to fake a glare in Elliot's direction, cutting it just shy of meeting his eyes which would reveal the ruse. "We didn't exactly talk about it."_

_Elliot didn't immediately object and Olivia found herself drawn to look at him. He was grinning, waiting for her to look. "Well, we sort of did once."_

_Being reminded of that case and a time when issues between them had been so close to the surface that Olivia had dared to hope something might be changing, issues she'd thought at the time were mutual, she felt like it was happening all over again. Like there was Elliot, grinning and asking if she was alright while he was pulling the rug out from under her._

_Wanting to turn the discomfort back on her partner, she ignored him, fixing her eyes on Shipley instead. "What about the Stablers?" Because despite how bad he might feel for her, the fact remained that she was the actual witness, her life was more likely to be in danger than his was. Even if he wanted to protect her out of misguided chivalry, he wouldn't want to endanger his wife and children. _

_And suddenly, she was glad she'd asked, because, like always, she'd pretty much forgotten about them, about the perfectly valid excuse Elliot would give for why they couldn't be together as opposed to telling her the truth and crushing her and she was glad to have the option of preparing herself for it. In the next second, another thought occurred to her. Had the FBI planned on putting her in the same house with the whole Stabler family? She was damn near sick at the thought._

_Shipley's eyes darted toward Elliot for a moment, although they looked more confused than anything else. "The family has not been threatened." He swallowed hard; his confusion still evident. "We don't expect they will be in the future either."_

_Oh god. Somehow that was worse. It would have been hard enough to say she wanted to be alone when she could argue that he'd have his family and she didn't want to intrude. But he'd be alone too. And he'd undoubtedly decide he wanted to protect her because he didn't have anyone else to protect and fuck if the man didn't go insane when he couldn't take care of someone._

_But she couldn't do it. She couldn't face it. She absolutely could not live in a house with him, pretend to be married or together or whatever the hell the FBI had up their sleeves that involved her spending a lot of time around the man who would be lamenting the loss of his precious fucking wife while she spent her days pretending to not be in love with him._

_Tears sprang to her eyes as she tried to find her voice. She was already humiliated and weak and sick. She had no pride left, and yet, she hated that she was crying yet again and in front of the two men. And she hated even more that they didn't have the kindness to turn away._

_Accepting that she wasn't about to get any privacy until she spoke, she cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed at the thought that she was about to request that she spend the next few, and possibly the last few, years of her life away from the man she loved. _

_"Um, I think we should, uh-" Like always, her eyes were pulled back to Elliot's and she didn't know what to make of the pain clearly etched across his face. She stopped talking, trying to read what he was thinking._

_He shook his head once, not trying to hide the tears that spilled down his cheeks. "Please, Liv."_

_She looked down, not sure why he was begging her when he could simply tell Shipley that he wanted away from her once and for all, and not sure why he believed she'd actually demand that he stay with her when it was so obvious he didn't want to. She sniffled, wanting to laugh at the absurdity of two NYPD detectives blubbering like idiots in front of the FBI because they didn't want to live together._

_Forcing out her voice, she wondered if her own words had the power to kill her. If they didn't, his certainly would. "It's ok, Elliot. You've done enough. You don't have to."_

_He shook his head again, closing the space between them with his hand, his fingers gripping hers. "Don't do this, Olivia. Please."_

_His voice, his plea, was a knife in her heart. He was begging her not to torture him, to let him go. She couldn't do it. She couldn't hurt him. She couldn't take more from him than she already had._

_She squeezed his hand in hers for one moment, needing to have the fresh memory of his answering squeeze in her mind to keep with her for all the days ahead. Then she looked at Shipley, who seemed thoroughly bored with the most painful moment of her life._

_"Separately."_


	33. Chapter 33

Part Thirty-Three  
_After_

_Olivia had never been so sure her partner was about to kill someone, certainly never her. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensed until all the tendons were visible. She'd just done what he'd asked and still, somehow, it wasn't enough. What did he want from her? She imagined nothing she did would ever be enough, not while his kidney was the only reason she was alive. She realized, because of his gift, they would never be even. No matter what she did, she would still, would always, owe him. Which was a pretty shitty position to put her in without her consent._

_Elliot's furious face turned to Shipley. "We need a minute," he spat, his voice so full of rage the other man had no choice but to obey the command. The moment Shipley left, Elliot's fierce glare turned back to her. "Don't. Fucking. Do. This."_

_Maybe, she decided, he didn't want to be involved at all. She looked down, feeling guilty that her promise to testify was costing him so much. She couldn't keep taking from him. "You don't have to go in if you don't want, El. They can't make you. You can just go home, go back to your life. I'll be ok. You don't have go into protection if you don't want to."_

_The wrath disappeared from his face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by confusion. "Are you joking?"_

_She felt stupid. He was right. Once their "deaths" were leaked to the press, his reappearance would raise questions – and all the answers would lead to the fact that she wasn't dead either. "Maybe they haven't released the statement yet. They can change it before it goes out."_

_Elliot stood up, pulled his char over next to hers, and sat down again before reaching out to take both of her hands. "Look, Olivia, there's no way I'm letting you go into Witness Protection without being there. Things could go really fucking wrong and you're already sick. You don't need the stress of a new identity and a new life on top of your condition. You'll need help."_

_He was right again, she realized. She'd been blinded by her fears, her memories of the attack. She wasn't thinking clearly. She couldn't deal starting over as someone new by herself; she couldn't handle the problems she already had. She nodded, accepting what he was telling her even though she couldn't meet his eyes. He wasn't trying to put her in jeopardy. He was trying to help. Like always. He was simply pointing out that she couldn't make it alone; she would need him to help her, no matter how much both of them wished otherwise._

_She needed him and he needed his family. There was only one way to achieve both._

_She nodded again, convincing herself of his wisdom. "You're right. I don't need the protection. I'll stay here. You'll be fine and your family will be fine. I was just overreacting."_

_"What the hell are you talking about?" He was looking at her like she was out of her mind._

_And as she looked at him, her thoughts suddenly derailed as she yawned and remembered how intensely tired she was. She hated to say it, to admit it, but she couldn't concentrate on anything else. "I need some sleep, El. Just tell Shipley whatever you want." Her words were swallowed by another yawn, her eyes blinking sleepily at him. "Really, it's fine. I don't care." And she didn't. She just wanted to take a nap._

_His worry was immediately apparent, his hand moving first to her forehead, then to her cheek. "Jesus, Olivia, you're burning up!"_

_Too tired to fight it, she let her head drop into his hand. "I'm so tired, El." She hated being sick. She hated needing him. But she was and she did._

_It was only as she felt his arms encircling her that she even realized she had fallen._

_There was a deafening, thumping noise tugging at her consciousness. She knew she should be worried about it. She should at least be curious about it. But when she pulled her eyes open, she saw only Elliot sitting beside her, leaning over her, holding her left hand in both of his. _

_He said nothing, smiling through the pronounced worry on his face._

_As she smiled back, she decided she didn't care that much. Elliot was with her and, though worried, he appeared to be in control of himself, which was a fairly good indication that things were ok enough._

_She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep, barely even hearing the sound of the helicopter._

_The next thing Olivia noticed was a cold sensation on her back. She was lying on her stomach, her head turned to the side and awkwardly propped up on a pillow. There was cold air on her back too, in addition to the cold clammy feel of something almost like liquid. Something hard was pressing on her as well, right where she was so sore and so badly bruised._

_She went to reach for it, intending to pull her shirt down or her sheet up or something, but her hand didn't respond. Her eyes flew open, trying to place herself, her surroundings. The room was dark, lit only by the dull greenish-white glow from some sort of medical device. She tried to move her hand again, this time recognizing that it wasn't moving because someone was holding it._

_Hell, he was squeezing it so tightly she knew he hadn't noticed her attempt to move. It warmed her heart. Even if he only cared for her by default because there was no one else there to care about, it was something._

_"El?" She struggled to sit up. _

_A woman's voice answered her. "Stay still please, ma'am."_

_Elliot responded, his face dropping into her line of sight as he squatted down next to her bed. "It's ok. You're in a hospital. They're doing an ultrasound."_

_The woman's voice popped up again. "Just making sure everything's working in there, ma'am."_

_Olivia glanced back toward the voice, but saw nothing, her view obscured by the ultrasound machine._

_Elliot squeezed her hand, reading the question right from her mind. "It's a Navy hospital. We're in Rhode Island." His eyes darted toward the woman, then back. "Safest place for you to be examined right now."_

_"El-" She barely got a sound out before his finger pressed against her lips._

_"No names." He looked toward the woman again, displaying a paranoia Olivia had rarely seen in her partner. "It's a bit easier to control the flow of information out of a military establishment, but we're not supposed to put ourselves in any additional risk."_

_Olivia wanted to argue the absurdity of going into hiding with Elliot at a military hospital, but she couldn't. She couldn't quite keep her eyes open any longer. So instead, she tightened her fingers around Elliot's hand and told him in the only way she could that she was glad to have him there to take care of her. She certainly wasn't in any position to do it herself._

_It was dark outside the next time she awoke. Elliot wasn't there, leaving her to look around in confusion. Somehow, she'd expected that he wouldn't leave her. She was in a hospital room, the room filled with oddly shaped shadows cast by the dim light on the wall behind her bed. A nurse was there, looking at the machine connected to her IV bags._

_With a groan, Olivia looked at the fresh IV line taped to her arm. She'd only just healed from the dramatic collection of bruises from her last stint in the hospital._

_The nurse smiled. "Good evening, ma'am." The woman was young, in her early twenties, with her red hair carefully pinned up in a neat bun, dressed in a rather unflattering beige shirt and pants. _

_Elliot's comment about being in a military hospital came back to her., clarifying a few things, confusing others. "Can I have some water?" Her voice was soft, but sounded harsh as she forced words out of her dry mouth._

_"Yes, ma'am. You're a bit dehydrated, so you're welcome to all the water you'd like." The woman leaned over, handing her a paper cup of water that had been sitting on the table beside the bed._

_Taking a sip, she found it much easier to clear her throat. "Thank you," she squinted at the small name tag on the woman's shirt, "Ms. Daniels."_

_The nurse froze, looking down at her uniform in confusion. "Is there a problem, ma'am?"_

_Unsure what she'd done to cause the utter fear on the young woman's face, Olivia shook her head._

_Luckily, she was rescued by the sound of the door opening. Elliot pushed through it, setting a small, fragrant bag on the bedside table and then turned on a brighter light. "You're awake." He didn't wait for Olivia to nod before turning to the nurse. "Everything ok?"_

_The woman, still looking frightened, nodding quickly. "Yes, sir."_

_He nodded back and offered a smile. "Thank you, Lieutenant."_

_The woman appeared quite relieved at the use of her rank and left the room._

_Elliot looked back at Olivia. "What did you say to scare her?"_

_Olivia shrugged. "I only said 'thank you.'" She thought back over her words. "And I called her Ms. Daniels. I didn't know she was a lieutenant."_

_Elliot grinned. "She probably thought she was out of uniform and was about to get yelled at. They all seem to think we're high-ranking officers or government officials or something." He pulled a chair over and started pawing through the bag he'd brought. "The young ones are terrified of us."_

_"Why?" She reached out, her hand pulling down the side of the bag, hoping like hell something in the grease-covered bag was for her._

_"Because we were flown in with a contingent of Feds and no one is allowed to ask our names." He pulled out his cheeseburger and fries, setting them on the table and then balling up the bag to toss in the wastebasket._

_"Where's mine?"_

_He looked at her like she was crazy. "You're in a hospital. You're sick. You get what they feed you."_

_"She said I was dehydrated. Not letting me eat is not going to fix that." She pouted, momentarily so hungry that she forgot things weren't the way they always had been between them._

_Picking up the carton of fries, he picked out two and shoved them in his mouth as he shook his head._

_"Oh, come on! I'm starving!"_

_"You're not putting crap in your body. That's my kidney in there." _

_A heavy, choking blanket of silence fell over the room then as the situation was brought home to each of them once again._

_Finally, Elliot cleared his throat, dividing his burger in two parts. "Here. If you're in rejection, a fucking burger isn't going to hurt anything anyway."_

_Olivia looked at the greasy paper-covered half he'd given her and swallowed. "They think I'm in rejection?" The desire to eat was erased entirely. She hadn't wanted to take the man's kidney, but she didn't want to die. And a life on dialysis wasn't exactly what her dreams were made of either._

_Elliot stared at his food, looking very much like he wasn't hungry anymore either. He shrugged one shoulder. "It's a possibility."_

_Swallowing hard, she offered the sandwich back. "I'm not really that hungry anymore."_

_Elliot shook his head. "You need to eat something. You're too damn thin."_

_Olivia dropped the food next to her on the bed, hating to see Elliot doing the same with his. "Maybe I'll have it later." _

_Uncharacteristically, Elliot didn't argue. He just sat there staring at anything besides her. Olivia avoided eye contact as well, her eyes moving to the wall and fixing there_

_The silence was interrupted by a knock on the door. A tall, thin man walked up to Olivia's side, nodding at Elliot as he passed. "I'm Doctor Kellerman. I met your husband earlier." If he noticed the odd look on Olivia's face, he didn't mention it. After he shook Olivia's hand, he looked in the folder he had in his hands. "Jane, it looks to me like you've managed to catch yourself another infection. Fever, dehydration, feeling tired, with your recent history, it's much more likely than the acute rejection scenario." He smiled at Elliot, referencing a conversation they'd had earlier that Olivia had no idea of. "I'm going to get you started on an antibiotic and keep you overnight to make sure you're well hydrated. If anything changes or the antibiotic doesn't have an effect, we'll have to consider a biopsy."_

_"A biopsy?" Elliot was on his feet in a second, as though charging the doctor would result in a different response._

_Olivia reached out, touching Elliot's arm to calm him. "A biopsy is the most accurate way to diagnose rejection." She'd had the same discussion so many times already._

_Kellerman smiled, sensing he was no longer in physical danger. "Should the antibiotics work, I'm going to recommend a few changes in your medication regime. Your body will never get a chance to heal if you keep getting sick."_

_Olivia nodded, having heard the song and dance from several different doctors; it was always the same. She knew getting the meds right was a process of trial and error. It was stressful though, and disappointing, each time the changes failed to bring about the desired result. "Thank you."_

_"I am going to cut back your prednisone. You're bruising so easily it's hard to tell if the pain is from that or something else." He glanced between Elliot and Olivia. "Have a good night, try to get some rest." With a grin, he nodded at the burger on Olivia's bed. "One fast food meal isn't going to kill you, but I expect you'll be eating healthier the rest of the time, ok, Jane?"_

_She smiled, embarrassed to be caught breaking the rules even though no one had expressly forbidden it. "Jane?"_

_The doctor smiled. "Unless you'd prefer Mrs. Doe?"_

_Olivia grinned, realizing they'd had to put something down on the paperwork. "Jane is fine. Thank you."_

_"Have a good night. Try to get some rest." He took a step away, catching Elliot's eye. "Both of you."_

_After the doctor was gone, Elliot sat back in his chair. "That's good, right?"_

_Olivia glanced at him, seeing the hope and desperation she knew she would have had in his position, and nodded. "I can get over an infection. God knows I've had enough of them."_

_"We should be safe here for the time being too. No one here knows who we are and they're absolutely not going to release any information about you or your condition to anyone." Elliot went back to his dinner, taking a bite of the long-cold burger._

_That he was resigned to staying, that he hadn't even asked her if she wanted him to, just made her feel even guiltier. She picked up her half of the burger and folded the paper around it. "You don't have to stay. You just said it yourself, I'm safe here."_

_He dropped the food like it had burned him, climbing back to his feet to move closer to her. "Jesus, are we back to this again?"_

_She looked away, wishing it didn't have to be the case. "I don't remember that we ever settled it."_

_"Well, no," Eliot said with a grin he quickly hid. "But you did say I could tell Shipley whatever I wanted."_

_Olivia had, many times in the past, agreed to Elliot's ridiculous ideas just to get him to fuck off. Realizing she must have done it again, she bit her lip. Curiosity outweighed the dread of hearing Elliot tell her she was going home to sit alone waiting for a hitman to show up while he was at home with his family. "What did you tell him?"_

_"I told him you're not going anywhere without me."_

_Olivia held her breath, waiting for the words to sink in, waiting for her brain to decide whether they were good or bad. But the meaning didn't become clear. "So we're going home?" _

_"No, we're not going home and waiting for someone to kill us." Elliot seemed rather amused, but that was all she could tell from his voice._

_Her eyes moved back to his, searching for something she honestly didn't know if she could name, let alone recognize. "What does that mean?"_

_"It means wherever we're going, we're going together." He sat down, picking up the rest of his sandwich, offering her his fries. "Shipley will be in touch. Everything depends on when you get out of here."_

_Olivia took a few of the proffered fries, not quite daring to believe what she was hearing. "They'll probably put us somewhere as a married couple." She felt bad reminding him of something that had likely slipped his mind, but she knew she'd feel worse if she didn't tell him only to see his distaste for the idea later._

_He nodded, his face revealing absolutely no shock at or aversion to the concept. "Yeah, I figured." Taking a bite of his burger, he nodded at her wrapped half. "Eat up. This is far too disgusting for me to eat the whole thing."_

_Unsure of what else to do, she munched on her dinner. Elliot had apparently just willingly agreed to be her husband for the unforeseen future. Even the cold, congealed cheese couldn't keep the smile from her face._


	34. Chapter 34

Part Thirty-Four  
_After_

_Olivia awoke the next morning feeling better. She'd gotten used to the pattern, recognizing the feeling of having an antibiotic onboard, finally free of some of the exhaustion that plagued her. Yawning and stretching, albeit carefully so as not to disturb the bruises on her back, Olivia looked around. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw Elliot passed out in the chair beside her bed._

_His head was thrown back, his mouth hanging open, his right hand still clamped around hers even in sleep. In his left hand, the sports page remained, making her grin at the thought that she wasn't the only one who found the baseball statistics he'd been reading to her horribly boring. It didn't matter what he said to her though, not really, not as long as she got to fall asleep listening to the soothing tone of his voice._

_The sound of footsteps approaching called her attention to the door, a moment of fear revealing itself in the sudden change of the cadence coming from her heart monitor. But it was only Dr. Kellerman, greeting her with a wide smile. He was held up at the door, and Olivia watched curiously as he provided multiple IDs to someone she couldn't see._

_Finally cleared to enter, he shrugged at her. "I've never had to identify myself to US Marshals to visit a patient whose name I'm not cleared to know before." He held up his hand to ward off a protest Olivia hadn't been about to issue. "But I've seen plenty in my years in the Navy and I won't mention it again."_

_Olivia nodded, glad she wouldn't have to bumble around an explanation she wasn't yet prepared to give. "Good morning."_

_Noticing Elliot's presence, the doctor stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Your blood work is looking great this morning. Your temp is down as well. How are you feeling?"_

_Olivia smiled. "Better. Much better." She shook her head, feeling like she should have known that she'd been sick. "It never even occurred to me that I had an infection. I know it's silly since I've had so many, but I just thought I was tired."_

_The doctor nodded, making a note in his paperwork before setting it aside to examine Olivia. "Once someone gets a fever, the thought process is usually the first thing to go." He lapsed into silence for a few moments as he felt for swollen glands in her neck and under her arms, then listened to her heart and lungs, and finally prodded her bruised side for good measure. "Provided you're still looking and feeling this good by noon, I'm inclined to release you with some antibiotics for the road."_

_"Thanks." She felt much better hearing it because she'd never cared for hospitals and with the amount of time she'd spent in them recently, her tolerance was about out. "It's nothing personal, but I'd rather not stay."_

_Elliot awoke a few minutes after Dr. Kellerman left. He rubbed at his eyes and rolled his head around, probably to work out the kinks sleeping in such an odd position had caused. With a yawn, his eyes finally found Olivia's, the yawn fading into a smug grin._

_She smiled. "Morning, sleepy."_

_He snickered, leaning his head to the side, eliciting a loud crack from his neck. "You're paying for the visit to the chiropractor."_

_"Hopefully we'll get good insurance from the Feds." She motioned around the room. "This shit isn't cheap." She knew it was probably wrong, but she was kind of relieved that she was officially dead. Despite having been injured on the job, despite the excellent health plan she had, the medical bills had been piling up faster than she could pay them. Elliot knew nothing about it, hadn't had the fun of experiencing it. All of his medical bills related to the transplant were being covered by her insurance. He had no idea what it was like to open an envelope from the hospital, expecting it to be some sort of record of her care or perhaps one of those ridiculous customer service surveys, and find instead a bill for ninety grand because some secretary hadn't checked the right box on the form. Her mailbox had been full every day, stuffed with bills – rather than one bill for her portion of the deductible or whatever the hell it was, she received one from each provider. The hospital, the doctors, the anesthesiologist, the nutritionist, all individually, of course. She'd had no idea how she was going to pay it. Luckily, it appeared she no longer had that worry._

_Taking a breath, she changed the subject. "Doc says he might let me out of here today."_

_Elliot's face fell, worry and fear creeping in and crowding out his smile. "What? They had to fly you in by helicopter yesterday. How can you be better already?"_

_"Gee, thanks." She didn't want to be disappointed in his reaction, but she was. She didn't like being sick and requiring attention she'd never needed before. She didn't like the idea that he preferred her helpless and dependent. "The magic of penicillin."_

_He read her immediately, reaching out and taking her hand. "I'd rather not have you collapse into my arms again." He started to grin, a wicked gleam coming into his eyes. "Well, at least not like that."_

_A few minutes after one o'clock found them hustled into a black Suburban with tinted windows by men who were remarkably less communicative than the FBI agents had been. Of course, Olivia wasn't even sure whose custody she was in anymore. They'd started with Shipley and his FBI minions. There had been US Marshals guarding her hospital room. And then a flurry of activity had surrounded her quiet announcement to those men that she was ready to go. The men had asked them to wait inside the hospital room until transportation arrangements were completed._

_A different group of men opened the door about a half hour later to lead them to the truck. It made her nervous, that they hadn't even bothered with showing IDs. She imagined it was a feeling she'd have to adjust to having all the time – never being sure people were who they claimed to be, never knowing if they were really there to kill her._

_She felt a little better when she heard the sound of the door closing heavily behind them, the distinct thudding revealing bulletproofing between the regular steel layers. She figured the Russian mob, paranoid as they were, weren't going to bother transporting soon-to-be murder victims in bulletproofed Suburbans. And there was, as always, a limit to the amount of fear she could experience with Elliot glued to her side._

_Pretending to be his wife for the rest of time wouldn't exactly be the worst thing that had ever happened to her._

_Well, not as long as he wasn't bemoaning the loss of his dearly beloved._

_Six car switches later, they were driven onto the nearly empty runway of a tiny abandoned-looking airport. Airstrip was more like it. There was one plane sitting there, engines already running, a contingent of Secret Service wannabes herding Olivia and Elliot like cattle across the twenty foot distance of open space between the last truck and the plane._

_Each car had come with its own set of incommunicative personnel. So incommunicative, in fact, Elliot had stopped even trying to ask questions. He'd retreated instead to glaring at them, all the while keeping one arm curled protectively around Olivia's shoulders. She felt a hell of a lot better than she had the day before, leaving her to feel nervous and awkward regarding the contact rather than being able to enjoy it._

_To top her emotional unsteadiness off, Olivia wasn't a big fan of flying. She'd only been in a plane a handful of times in her life and had never enjoyed it. She preferred to be on her own two feet, propelling herself anywhere she needed to go. She'd made it to forty before she decided to buy a car, a car which she never even used. And when she was in a car, the vast majority of the time, Elliot was there and usually at the wheel. The tiny private plane was a new experience for her. She half expected to see something out of the movies, with swanky couches and plush upholstery. She was disappointed to see eight rows of standard airplane seats, complete with requisite stains and vaguely discomforting stale odor._

_Glancing back at Elliot, who only shrugged at her, Olivia slipped into the first row of seats. Elliot sat in the space beside her, taking a deep breath, stretching out his legs in a display of relaxation she knew was faked. She plastered a smile on her face and tried to relax, at least as much as Elliot was pretending to. The moving around, she knew, was to be expected. There were people who wanted them dead, after all, and those people had a lot of money and friends. And, for the time being, at least, Olivia knew she was extremely important to the government; therefore they were going to a lot of pains to keep her safe._

_No matter how safe she knew she was though, she didn't feel that way. Being surrounded by a bunch of armed strangers who wouldn't say who they were nor where they were taking her didn't inspire quite the same level of confidence as she normally found sitting in a sedan with Elliot._

_Her eyes turned to the window as the plane started to roll, wondering what it would be like to live every day knowing someone somewhere wanted her dead. She didn't know how she was supposed to live like that. She didn't know how anyone could handle it._

_And it suddenly made sense why Alex Cabot had returned from witness protection a very different woman than when she'd left. It also explained the other woman's utter refusal to discuss it._

_Thinking of Alex, Olivia remembered how her friend hadn't been able to attend her own mother's funeral. Olivia herself had little to lose besides a strained relationship with her half-brother and a job, the best part of which was currently located in the seat next to her. Elliot, on the other hand, had a hell of a lot to give up. Sure, he'd mentioned that Kathy was talking about leaving again, but Olivia had no real expectation that it would have been permanent, if it had even happened at all. He had five children too, one of whom was only a few years old. Eli's age could certainly double by the time they returned if Shipley's warning about years passing held true. And Elliot's older kids, Maureen and Kathleen, both were old enough that they could well be married or mothers by the time he ever saw them again. A pang of regret surged through her when she thought of them walking down the aisle unescorted, thinking their father's death had prevented him from being there. She didn't know how he'd live with the guilt of missing the birth of his first grandchild._

_He was giving it all up for her, to take care of her, to ensure her safety. She didn't want to confuse his sense of responsibility with love for her, but it was difficult to separate the concepts in her head. She had to keep reminding herself that Elliot was a very different person from her. While she always cared about the women whose cases she worked, while she was always willing to talk to them or help them through a rough time, she was still able, and willing, to draw a line. It was for their own good, as well as her own, that she wasn't able to give up her whole life to take care of each one. They had to eventually stand on their own. But Elliot was different. Elliot usually drew the line at the end of the case. He rarely took victims' stories so personally that he offered his home phone number to them. But when he did get involved, once work became personal, Elliot was completely unable to draw that line. Olivia was usually the one to do it, the one to stop him and remind him that he was crossing a line, that his desire to help was going to wind up hurting both he and the victim._

_But this was the one time she couldn't do it. She couldn't gently, but firmly, tell him that he was overstepping his bounds. She couldn't tell him to cut his losses and move on. Because this time, she was the victim, she was the one clinging to him, needing him constantly, needing him to make simple decisions she ought to have been able to make for herself._

_The fact that he'd given up his wife and children, who would never, ever understand his choice even if he did survive it, gave her a clear idea of how far in over his head he was. He'd left his family. He'd given her his kidney for Christ's sake. She'd allowed them to make the most colossal mistake in the history of the world._

_She squeezed her eyes closed and drew in a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. She couldn't keep turning to him. She had to remember how to stand on her own two feet._

_As always, Elliot was watching her, catching the tone of her reverie if not the content, seeing the moment when she was fighting for control. His hand snaked out, crossing the space between them, tightening around hers._

_"Liv? You ok?"_

_Drawing her hand away, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She owed him. She owed both of them. He hadn't saved her life for her to turn into a clingy, dependent basket case. He'd saved the life of the woman he knew. His partner. The woman who, while hating herself for doing it, had had the strength to stand up and walk away from him when he'd been perfectly willing to commit adultery. He wanted that woman to live. He deserved that much._

_She nodded, gaining enough control of herself to glance at him with a wry smile on her face. "Yeah, I just hate flying."_

_He smiled back even as he searched her face for proof she was lying. "You should try flying to Saudi Arabia."_

_"I'll pass." She looked back toward the window and let the time slip away._

_It was about an hour later when one of the men who'd boarded the tiny plane with them finally approached. "We'll be landing in Minneapolis in about fifteen minutes."_

_"Minneapolis?" She hadn't given any thought to where they'd wind up living, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be in the mid-West. She wondered if she could ask for somewhere else._

_He nodded. "You'll meet up with another group there. Can't tell you where you're headed after that." He smiled for a moment, then reached over behind them and produced a brown paper bag. "Empty your pockets."_

_Feeling like she was about to get frisked, she reached into her pants pockets. In one she found a five dollar bill, which she determined after Agent Talkative shrugged that she could keep. She found an appointment card from her nephrologist in the other, with the details of the follow up appointment she'd made. Tossing that in the bag, she reached into the pockets of her hoodie, withdrawing her wallet and phone._

_Those were harder to give up. They were a part of her, something of her life that she would no longer need. It briefly crossed her mind what a pain in the ass it would be to get a new driver's license, but she figured the Feds would just have to help out with that when, if, she ever went back to being Olivia Benson. She tossed the wallet in the bag before she allowed herself to think much about it. Her eyes fell on her phone, on what had been her link to Elliot for a very long time. She couldn't even guess how many times she'd called him or he'd called her over the years. It was always about work, about some horrific crime. But there had been so very many times she'd picked it up and heard his familiar, comforting voice on the other end._

_Rationalizing that she'd be living in a house with the familiar, comforting voice, she dropped it in the bag. She imagined her fingerprints had already been flagged in the system somewhere, routed to another name, a name that wouldn't be hers, to a life that she wouldn't recognize, and the man without a name was holding a bag with everything left of her identity with a little less concern than he'd hold a bag of take-out. _

_She glanced at Elliot, wanting to draw strength from him in that moment despite the fact she'd promised herself she wouldn't do that any longer._

_Except Elliot didn't have any strength to give her. He'd flipped open his wallet and pulled a dog-eared photo from behind the credit cards. A tear trickled down his cheek as he took one last long look at his children's faces before he threw it, along with his wallet and phone, in the bag. He looked devastated, as though it had suddenly occurred to him that he might not see his children again for a long time, if ever._

_And so rather than borrowing strength from him, Olivia loaned what strength she had. She reached over, running her hand down his arm, finally letting her fingers close around his. If they were going to make it, they were going to have to pool their resources, splitting whatever strength they had between them._


	35. Chapter 35

Part Thirty-Five  
_After_

_Olivia had never been to Minneapolis, and after having spent a total of ten minutes there, including time taxing down the runway, she wasn't sure she could claim that she had been. She felt strange, almost like she was in a dream as she boarded another plane, damn near identical to the one she'd just been on. She wanted to commiserate with Elliot about it, but she was afraid to interrupt the silence he'd lapsed into since he'd given up the photo of his kids._

_She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she felt like another trip, if maybe she could just declare that she was staying right where she was. Even if the Simonovichs had followed them out of Manhattan and tracked the helicopter to Rhode Island and also somehow managed to keep up with the multi-vehicle road trip into Vermont, Olivia was quite positive they weren't also aware of the trip to Minneapolis. And if they were, she almost felt like they deserved to win._

_Glancing over her shoulder at Elliot, she muttered, "Wonder where we're headed this time."_

_"Hopefully somewhere with food. I'm starving," Elliot grumbled back, easily as bored with the traveling as she. _

_This time, an agent nodded at her before she and Elliot flopped into their seats. Olivia could hear the heavyset man's belt buckle smacking into each row of seats as he turned sideways to fit through the aisle. "You guys have any personal effects?"_

_Homeless and identity-less, the pair shook their heads. Between the two of them, all they had was seven dollars in cash, which wouldn't cover lunch, so she mentally added penniless to the list. _

_"You got any food?" Elliot's voice was hopeful and Olivia wanted to joke that if the large man had any food, he probably had already eaten it._

_He shook his head. "We already had dinner."_

_Too irritated to finish the conversation, Elliot turned to stare out the window. With a shrug, Olivia responded to him. "We didn't."_

_Elliot turned back to pipe up, "Lunch either."_

_The agent nodded. "I'll see if anyone has anything, but the flight to Tulsa is only about an hour."_

_With alarm that she couldn't quite hide, Olivia fairly squeaked. "Tulsa?" She glanced at Elliot, pleased to see an equal amount of trepidation on his face. "As in Oklahoma?"_

_The man chuckled as he walked away._

_Elliot glared at him over the seat before leaning over to whisper at her. "Bet you five bucks he's from Tulsa."_

_"You don't have five bucks." She looked back at him and didn't bother to whisper. "I cannot live in Oklahoma. I will die." She waited to see what, if anything, he would do. When he did nothing, she continued. "Fuck, I will kill myself."_

_Elliot was laughing, leaning the seat back as far as it would go. "You promise me it'll be a murder-suicide and I'll promise not to turn you in." After a few minutes of silence, he leaned his head toward her and grinned. "Maybe I can get a tractor. I always wanted to have a tractor."_

_Olivia didn't dignify his comment with a response. She was too busy trying to tell herself the idea of a hot, sweaty, shirtless Elliot on a tractor didn't turn her the fuck on. It was an uphill battle._

_The agent never returned, leaving them to determine that he must not have been able to find any food. Elliot bitched about how the jerk could have had the decency to tell them, while Olivia tuned out the familiar sound of his voice and contemplated what their new lives would be like. _

_When the plane touched down, Olivia half expected to see Laurey, Curly and all their friends dancing around and roping cattle. The fact that there were no covered wagons lined up did little to settle her fears. She was a city girl and if someone thought they'd be able to hide her out in the country somewhere, it was never going to work. She would never blend in. She knew it._

_Olivia looked around hopefully as she made her way down the stairs to the asphalt runway. Although there were quite a few planes, regular commercial sized ones too, across a large pattern of paved roads at, what she assumed, was the regular airport, Olivia didn't see any another puddle jumper anywhere close._

_It was disappointment, she told herself, that made her reach out for Elliot's hand. She'd need to dig her nails into something to stop herself from demanding they take her somewhere else. Throwing a tantrum over her location she guessed would probably have no effect other than alienating the people on whom she needed to depend for her survival. In her other hand, she clutched the small bag she had from the hospital, filled with a few weeks' worth of her medications. It was the only possession she had; the only thing that was her own, besides the clothes on her back, and even those pill bottles bore the name Jane Doe._

_The group of agents accompanying them led them to a maroon minivan. Once Elliot and Olivia were loaded inside, the group retreated to the plane. The plane was already speeding away from them before the man in the front seat turned around to face them._

_"I've got some stuff here for you." He shook out the contents of a large Ziploc bag onto the console between the front seats. He then grabbed a plain leather wallet from the pile and offered it to Elliot. "Here's some ID for you for tonight." He picked up a second wallet, a silly pink clutch with a dainty handle attached decorated with rhinestone daisies, and held it out to her. "And for you." _

_Any other time, Olivia would have shared a hearty laugh with her partner regarding the ridiculously girly object she was given, but this wasn't any other time. There wasn't a damn thing funny about any of it. She mutely accepted the wallet._

_He picked up the last item, a pair of plane tickets and handed them to Elliot. "The IDs in those wallets will get you on the plane." He looked back at Olivia. "You have your medicine?"_

_Olivia nodded, only half listening, feeling nervous about looking in her new wallet. Her new life was in there. She wasn't sure she wanted to look. Elliot hadn't._

_"Can I have it?" The man seemed irritated; as though he'd been through the process so many times he couldn't understand why other people hadn't._

_"What are you going to do with them? I need my pills." She hated how she sounded like some kind of a junkie, but the statement remained true._

_"Take anything you need for the next few hours now. There will be another agent on the plane with you. Your pills will be checked in her luggage. She has credentials, so she'll be able to deal with any security issues that arise."_

_Olivia was scared. She'd already been through so much and yet, she knew none of it had really sunk in. It was a lot of shit in a very short period of time. Her hands were shaking as she sorted through the multitude of bottles, looking for the ones she took in the evening. Hell, she didn't even know which ones she was supposed to take in the evening. She'd seen two doctors since she'd last taken them and both had warned they were going to change the pills she was on. And the night before she'd just taken whatever the nurse handed her without paying any attention to what it was. She wanted to kick herself for not having read the instructions from the hospital during the hours of traveling. Somehow, she'd expected that she'd have time to sit and read them with some modicum of privacy, except she wasn't sure when that would possibly be. It appeared she was going to be attached to Elliot for the rest of her natural life._

_She looked at the paperwork quickly, checking to make sure the three bottles she'd pulled from the bag were right. Taking one pill from each bottle, she replaced them in the bag, along with the paperwork. Having Jane Doe's discharge instructions with her would only raise suspicion if anyone checked. Olivia handed the bag over the seat and eyed the tablets in her hand. _

_"Got anything to drink?" She accepted the lukewarm coffee the man handed her with a grimace and choked down the pills she needed to live._

_Elliot watched her carefully, only turning back to inspect the plane tickets after she handed the cup back. "San Diego?"_

_A glimmer of hope ran through her. California was not Oklahoma. California was not landlocked. She might be able to survive in California, even if it was alien to the New York lifestyle. "Is that the final stop?"_

_The man smiled and shook his head. "I don't know." Then he turned around and drove the short distance to the main airport. _

_Olivia half expected a posse of armed men to open the door when they arrived, and so sat stupidly waiting for instructions when it didn't happen._

_The agent nodded over the seat, indicating the third row of seats. "Your carry-ons are back there. There are some clothes if you want to change, some toiletries."_

_Reaching for the door handle, Olivia paused and looked back at him. "Um, will we be in contact with someone else? How will I get my medicine back?"_

_The man just smiled. "The agent will contact you on the ground in San Diego." Then he turned back to face the front, put on his turn signal and gave every indication he was entirely finished with them._

_After she got out, Elliot grabbed the bags from the back and climbed out as well, shutting the door in time for the van to speed out into traffic. "Well, we got more than two sentences out of him. I guess that's an improvement, right?"_

_Olivia watched as her pills, which had remained with the man in the front seat, disappeared around a turn. "This seems a bit ill-planned."_

_Shrugging, Elliot opened his wallet, sliding his license out far enough to read it. "Bill Henderson." He scoffed. Olivia couldn't blame him. He didn't look like a Bill._

_Catching the way security seemed to watching them, although she acknowledged that it could have been utter paranoia, she took a glance in her wallet as well, loudly announcing, in case anyone cared that she was just making sure they had everything they needed. Speaking much more quietly while pretending to lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, she added, "Apparently, I'm your wife, Kelly."_

_With a sigh, Elliot shouldered both bags, stubbornly refusing to let Olivia carry her own, and headed inside._

_After they checked in, they headed for the bathrooms to change. Though she hated the idea of donning clothes that weren't hers, she hated the idea of staying in the filthy ones she was wearing more. Besides, she thought, she was going to be Kelly Henderson and Kelly Henderson did not have an emotional attachment to clothes simply because they were the last ones she picked out when she was someone else. She figured Elliot was happy to be changing too, since she'd had a few hours in a hospital gown in between while he hadn't had even that tiny reprieve._

_Apparently whoever had picked out the clothes had been given very limited information. The underwear and bra, which she only decided on trying because they had tags on them, were a good two sizes too small. With the option of her own disgusting two day old pair of panties or a brand new pair that was crawling up her ass before she even moved, she decided she could deal with the discomfort. The bra, however, was simply not going to work. Not only did it barely clasp, but the cups were so small that she looked like a cheap whore. She didn't want to scare Elliot away, nor did she want to attract undue attention, and so, she opted for her own bra and decided she'd just have to deal with it being dirty._

_The jeans, naturally, were a size too big, slipping so low on her hips as to reveal the way the elastic band of her too-small panties were cutting into her skin. The sweater was also way too big, so big, in fact, that she might have suspected it was meant for Elliot if not for the pale yellow color. At least, she thought with a shrug, the length of the sweater would keep her from revealing her intimates if her jeans fell off._

_Lastly, there were a pair of socks and running shoes which were, oddly enough, exactly the right size, and she was happy to put on something comfortable. Making her way out of the stall, she brushed her teeth at sink, brushed her hair, and dabbed on a bit of face powder with items someone had been thoughtful enough to provide. Satisfied that she looked a little less like someone who was sick and being smuggled through a tour of the United States, she tossed her old things in the trash can._

_She wasn't Olivia Benson anymore. She didn't need Olivia Benson's clothes._

_Reaching for the door handle, she paused and had second thoughts. No one had to know, she rationalized. Quickly, before she could rethink it, she grabbed the gray hoodie she'd been wearing, the one she'd stolen from Elliot years earlier, the one she liked to delude herself, when she was alone, still kind of smelled like him, and stuffed it in her carry-on. One thing. One nondescript gray hoodie. There was no way in hell someone would be able to identify her from that._

_With her security blanket zipped up inside the bag, she stepped outside the bathroom, bumping immediately into Elliot._

_"Jesus, I was about to come in there looking for you." His manner seemed calm, but Olivia could tell from one look in his eyes that he was absolutely frantic._

_She tried to reassure him with a smile and then with a squeeze of his hand when he reached out to take her bag from her once again. "Sorry, I had a little problem with sizing."_

_He looked down, taking in the sweater than hung to her knees and laughed. "Yeah, me too. I think you made out better."_

_Looking somewhere besides his face, Olivia realized what he was talking about. Whereas her outer layer was too big, his was quite snug. Both his faded jeans and the long sleeved dark gray tee-shirt he wore fit him like a glove. And fuck if he didn't look damn good in them._

_With a playful wink, she licked her lips and slowly raked her eyes up his body. "Yes, I think I did."_

_He stared at her dumbfounded for a moment, then his cheeks suddenly flamed a bright red that extended to his ears and down his neck. Elliot swallowed hard and looked away. "We – uh – plane – um-"_

_Giggling at the way the she'd thrown him and feeling like she'd earned a point for any woman who'd ever walked past a construction site in a skirt, she cleared her throat. "We've got time before our flight. Should we get something to eat?" As she spoke, she remembered the five she had, the one that had been in her khakis when she'd tossed them in the trash. Not that five dollars was going to buy much, but it was all they had. She was just turning back to get it when Elliot stopped her._

_He was holding up a pair of twenties, grinning like he'd won the damn lottery. "Did you check all the pockets in your bag?"_

_She shook her head, feeling stupid that she'd only been concerned with her clothes and making herself presentable. She reached for the zipper of the front pocket when Elliot held the bag out for her, finding her own pair of twenties. "Oh, thank god."_

_Elliot held his elbow out to the side and smiled. "Would you care for dinner, Mrs. Henderson?"_

_Laughing at the inanity of it, she slipped her arm through his. "Yes, Mr. Henderson, I would." _

_Whatever the hell kind of mess they were in, at least they were in it together._


	36. Chapter 36

Part Thirty-Six  
_After_

_After thoroughly enjoying some pizza slices and making their way through security, Olivia and Elliot joined the small crowd waiting at the gate. It was instinct, she knew, the way they chose the row of seats against two walls, allowing them to feel secure while they surreptitiously scanned the group around them. Mostly they looked to Olivia like typical San Diego-bound vacationers. Women in high-heeled sandals with fake orange tans, over-sized sunglasses pushed up on their heads, sitting with men in old tee-shirts and ill-fitting shorts who were threatening the kids to behave or else they'd all leave and go home. There was also group of older couples, along with some sort of clergyman, a church group of some kind, off to some meeting or whatever it was church groups did. Finally, there were a handful of annoyed business men in suits, tapping away at their laptops or fiddling with their iPhones when they weren't glaring at the shrieking children who hadn't fallen for their fathers' threats._

_Olivia wondered which one of their fellow passengers was the agent, the one carrying her medicine, the one who would introduce herself when they landed. A quick glance at Elliot assured her that he was trying to figure out the same thing; the tense lines around his eyes revealed that he was as sure as she was that the woman wasn't there._

_She swallowed hard, reaching out to touch Elliot's arm, disturbed by the fact that it was already so deeply ingrained in her to reach for him despite having resisted the urge for so many years. It was upsetting to realize how naturally acting like his wife had come to her._

_He saw the shock pass over her face, his hand moving to her leg, squeezing her lightly just about the knee. "What? What's the matter?"_

_"Nothing," she lied, shrugging to convince him. "I just thought for a second what if she doesn't make the plane? What if her bag gets lost?"_

_"Damn it, I didn't think of that." He winced, trying to take the blame. "If I'd thought of it, maybe we could have hidden a couple days' worth of pills."_

_Refusing to let him shoulder the blame, she let her eyes wander over his revealing outfit. "And where, exactly, would you have hidden them?"_

_He shrugged and turned away, leaving his hand right where it was. "You've got enough room in those clothes."_

_She ignored him, both of them already knowing security would have found a handful of unlabeled pills on her during the pat-down. It wouldn't have been worth the trouble. "I'm sure if she doesn't make it, she'll catch the next one and arrange for someone to meet us."_

_He glanced back at her. "Just because that's what we would have done doesn't mean someone else will."_

_"Not everyone is a bumbling idiot." Deciding she liked the way the warmth from his palm was seeping through her jeans, she tried to encourage him to leave his hand there. She leaned over, dropping her head onto his shoulder in much the same way as she had the day before in the van._

_He turned to respond, but as he opened his mouth, a man sitting across from them grabbed wildly for his phone as it started to fall from the armrest where he'd balanced it, sending his laptop crashing to the floor in his haste, and then cursed loudly as he kicked over his coffee cup while trying to rescue the laptop._

_Elliot chuckled. "You were saying."_

_Happy that he hadn't moved his hand or tried to dissuade her from leaning on him, she didn't bother to argue. "Never mind."_

_"I thought so." And though his voice was snarky, his hand remained right where it was._

_She awoke to a gentle shaking of her leg. Someone was calling for Kelly. Confusion drove her to open her eyes, the concern in Elliot's expression immediately bringing her back to the present. Olivia sat up, looking around to see what was going on._

_It only took her a moment to remember where she was, which considering how very many places she'd been in twenty-four hours seemed like something she should be proud of. Rubbing her eyes, she looked at her partner. "What?"_

_His eyes were worried, scanning her face for a long time. "You ok?"_

_Irritated that he was making a big deal out of her nap, she rolled her eyes and leaned back away from him. "Yeah, geez, I fell asleep. It's been a long day, Bill." The emphasis on his new name, she hoped, would serve to remind him that most normal people would have required some sleep too._

_"We're boarding." He stood up, grabbing both their bags in one hand and offering the free hand to her._

_She took it until she got to her feet, simply out of the fear someone watching might notice something weird if she didn't. "Sorry for falling asleep on you again."_

_He kept looking back at her, glancing over at her as they approached the gate. "You sure you're ok?"_

_She glared at him, wondering when her partner had turned into such an overbearing mother hen. _

_And then she remembered the rest of the story, the part that had been going on for much longer than a day. Her little nap, which she knew was entirely voluntary, had worried him. Olivia tried to take his hand before she gave her boarding pass and ID to the flight attendant, but he stayed just out of her reach._

_As soon as they were checked and ushered onto the plane, she smiled. "Yeah, El, I'm fine."_

_The panicked look on his face struck her a second before the fact that he'd stopped dead did. His eyes darted around, fear obvious as he looked over his shoulders and then over hers._

_"What?" She'd never seen him acting so weird._

_He grabbed her arm harshly, suddenly hurrying her toward their seats, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "I'm not El, remember."_

_She felt like an ass when she sat down, even more as she watched Elliot struggling to stash both of their bags in the already full overhead compartments. She was just fucking useless now. Elliot finally succeeded in jamming the bags in the compartment, using enough force that Olivia wasn't sure the bags would ever come back out. It didn't really matter though, since they had their IDs and cash in their pockets. Except for the sweatshirt, nothing in her bag belonged to her. Thinking of her own unexpected fit of sentimentality in keeping the sweatshirt, she wondered if Elliot had held onto anything of his._

_When Elliot joined her, he was holding a Time Magazine in his hands, which she'd watched him buy at the stand located next to the pizza place. It hadn't occurred to her why he wanted a magazine. It hadn't occurred to her that she ought to pick one up too. It hadn't occurred to her that she was looking at just under three hours with nothing to do but stare at the back of the seat in front of her._

_Conveniently, he fell asleep before the flight attendant even came by with drinks. Olivia snagged the magazine from his lax fingers and read it while he snoozed on her shoulder for a change._

_Surprisingly, the time passed quickly. She'd only just started the first of the articles she'd initially skipped over when she paged through the magazine looking for interesting ones when she realized the flight was nearly over. Nudging Elliot awake as soon as the captain announced their descent into San Diego, Olivia looked out the window at their new city. It was nothing like New York, but she supposed that was for the best. If she was somewhere completely alien, then she would be much more likely to remember that she wasn't herself anymore. It had helped in Oregon. Olivia Benson was far from her comfort zone marching in hiking boots, arms locked with men who hadn't shaved in at least ten years. Though in her dreams she had been back in her hometown with her partner, every waking moment she'd been reminded of and consumed with Persephone James. She knew all too well what it was like to become someone else and stay that person for more than a few days._

_As she glanced at Elliot, who was blushing over having snuggled up to her in his sleep, she wondered how he would do in their new lives. He'd agreed to go into witness protection. Hell, he'd demanded he go in with her. But the way he'd stared at the picture of his kids, the way worry and disappointment had already settled onto his features – they made her question his decision. She wasn't sure he'd actually thought about what he was doing._

_Damn it. She wanted to kick herself. She'd thought about it, about his decision to give up his kids, decided it was due to his sense of responsibility, figured he was just trying to take care of her like he thought he was supposed to, but it wasn't just that. It wasn't just that he had a thing about protecting his partner._

_Elliot was a hothead. He always had been. He'd spent years flying off the handle and making judgment calls with no judgment whatsoever. She'd always been his voice of reason, his sounding board, his obstacle to losing control at any given moment for years. He counted on her to make sound decisions when he couldn't. Unfortunately, he hadn't been thinking and she'd been too excited by the prospect of playing his wife when they'd been faced with a huge, life-altering decision. She never should have let him give up his life, his family, his job, his everything, just to make sure she took her medicine on time. She should have been an adult and accepted the responsibility of her own decisions – she was the one who'd agreed to testify, she was the one who'd be on the chopping block, she was the one whose moronic half-brother had spilled all her personal information to her even more moronic ex-boyfriend._

_She should have gone in alone._

_She'd ruined her partner's life with her neediness. God help her, if he ever realized what she'd done, he'd never forgive her._


	37. Chapter 37

Part Thirty-Seven  
_After_

_Olivia was dead silent as the plane hit the ground. Now that she was dreading every minute she would spend alone with the man in the future, the traveling didn't seem so bad. No, it was the settling into some kind of normal life with him that would really make her crazy. She decided she'd simply avoid him as much as she could, if not physically, then mentally, emotionally. She needed to distance herself if only to encourage Elliot to remember she wasn't his real wife._

_If Elliot noticed the way she'd pulled into herself and was no longer amused at all by the role she was playing, he gave her no indication. He retrieved their bags, waiting until most everyone else had exited, and then guided her off the plane with a hand on her shoulder like she was a kid he was afraid he'd lose if he looked away. But she couldn't, wouldn't, call him on it. He had kids that he was afraid of losing. He had kids he'd lost. She wasn't about to remind him of them. She figured he'd be the one to bring them up, to throw his losses in her face the first time they argued, to load more guilt onto her shoulders than she'd already piled up on herself, though such a feat would require special skills._

_Once they were at the gate, they looked around, hoping to spot their contact. Seeing no one that seemed interested in them, Elliot shrugged and met her eyes. "So, where to?"_

_"She's supposed to have checked her bag, right? Maybe baggage claim?" Olivia didn't know what else to suggest besides hopping the next flight to New York and calling the whole thing off._

_His eyes held hers a beat longer than she expected, leading her to believe that her partner was still quite adept at reading her, but in keeping with their long-established behavioral patterns, he didn't ask. Finally, he offered her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Baggage claim it is."_

_Feeling guiltier for ruining his good mood, for throwing a new wall between them, Olivia hung her head and fell in step with him. They were side-by-side, and yet, it felt like there was an unfathomable chasm between them._

_Baggage claim, as always, was a mess. The passengers from about sixteen recently arrived flights were all waiting around the terminal for the luggage to start flowing. Since Elliot and Olivia weren't actually waiting for their bags, they scanned the area instead, keeping their eyes peeled for someone who looked decidedly like a Fed._

_When bags started sliding down the conveyor though, they edged into the crowd and pretended to be searching like all the other people. They didn't want to stick out and have airport security take notice of them. But as the bags slowed and the crowd dwindled, Olivia felt her heart start to race. She really didn't know what to do if they missed their connection with the agent. Not only was there an issue with her medicine and how she'd get replacements for them without any medical records, but they also had no place to stay, no money, no transportation. They were really quite helpless, having relinquished their identities and their lives, depending on someone whose name they didn't even know, let alone how to contact her._

_She looked up at Elliot, catching his eyes, her mouth opening to tell him she was afraid they'd just made a terrible mistake._

_But he was grinning, missing the obvious panic on her face. "I think she's talking to you."_

_Confused, Olivia looked around, belatedly hearing the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling an unfamiliar name._

_"Kelly? Kelly, is that you?"_

_Realizing Elliot was right, Olivia smiled at the tall brunette in front of her. "Yes, I'm Kelly," she stated, hoping this was actually her contact and not someone with a faulty memory_

_"I thought that was you, it's been so long." The woman's face broke into a wide smile. "Ellen Wright, from Saint Michael's, remember?"_

_Olivia smiled and nodded, putting her hand on Elliot's arm. "Bill, this is my old friend from school, Ellen. Ellen, this is my husband Bill."_

_Elliot extended his hand, smiling warmly. "So nice to meet you. Kelly talks about Saint Michael's all the time." Olivia glanced at him and wondered why the hell the man hadn't gone into acting. Fuck, he was good. She almost believed his bullshit herself._

_Ellen nodded toward the exit doors. "My husband is outside waiting; I just got a text from him. You guys need a ride home?" She slipped her hands into her jeans pockets, giving anyone looking the impression that she was completely relaxed._

_With a quick glance at her partner who seemed to be as comfortable with the whole imaginary situation as Ellen, Olivia faked utter relief. "Oh, that would be great! We didn't want to waste money on a rental."_

_The trio headed outside to meet up with Ellen's husband who was behind the wheel of a green Chevy. He jumped out to help Ellen load her suitcase in the trunk, pausing in confusion when he realized his wife was not alone. They went through the introductions again, Olivia smiling appropriately at phony memories and introducing Elliot as her husband yet again. She told herself this must have been part of the set-up, forcing them to introduce themselves and each other with new names and a new relationship with an agent present until hopefully it would start to feel like second nature. _

_She and Elliot sat in the back, the two of them alternately glancing at the pair in front of them and each other. Olivia could read the uncertainty in his face as surely as he could read it in hers. Ellen had yet to identify herself as their contact. Her husband Walter had given no indication whatsoever that he was anyone besides Ellen's other half. It could easily be a case of mistaken identity; one that neither Olivia nor Elliot could correct without revealing dangerous information. Instead of questioning the pair of strangers whose car they'd gotten in voluntarily without requesting proof of their identities, Olivia and Elliot sat silently, their hands linked together on the seat between them._

_But as soon as they were out of the airport traffic and on the freeway, Ellen turned around, holding her FBI credentials up for them to see. "You guys did great. No wonder someone's out for you – your acting talents must have snookered somebody good!"_

_Walter snickered. "Like you're not gunning for an Oscar yourself, El."_

_In confusion, Olivia turned to Elliot, wondering how he knew Walter, wondering how close they had to be for the man to use a nickname that, to the best of her knowledge, no one besides herself used. The answering giggle from the front passenger seat set her straight, cluing her in that El was also short for Ellen._

_Elliot narrowed his eyes. "You're not married, are you?"_

_Ellen shook her head. "Five years of working together sometimes I feel like we are."_

_Olivia's eyes darted to Elliot's to offer a tiny smile. She knew all about that._

_"You have your IDs?" Ellen reached over the seat, expecting compliance. When neither passenger moved, she rolled her eyes at her partner, giving Olivia and Elliot the impression she'd been through such exchanges many, many times. "Those aren't your permanent identities. They were just to get you out here without an escort."_

_Part of her was glad to be asked to hand over the sparkly pink wallet with Kelly Henderson's license and fake credit cards inside, was glad to know that Elliot wouldn't be Bill any longer. Most of her, however, was apprehensive. She had already given up her own name. The one thing she'd been given, the name Kelly, apparently wasn't for her to keep. _

_It wasn't only Elliot who picked up on her discomfort with the idea. Ellen's face softened, as did Walter's as he glanced at her in the rear view mirror. Elliot reached into his pocket, withdrawing the wallet from his pocket, offering Olivia reassurance silently by showing her that he was ok with the idea. Swallowing hard, Olivia followed suit, passing over the tacky wallet to which she found she had an odd sentimental attachment._

_Ellen turned back around in her seat, looking down as she spoke. "I'm sure you're tired of traveling. Don't worry, you're almost done."_

_Elliot sighed heavily and turned to look out the window. He either didn't believe her or he didn't care. Olivia realized she didn't care herself. They were in no hurry to get anywhere. It wasn't like a long, hard week at work that would end eventually and allow her to go home and curl up under her blankets and sleep in her bed. When the traveling was over, there was just going to be a new life, a new set of awkward circumstances, that wouldn't feel any more relaxing than flying all over the country had been._

_A moment later, Ellen offered the wallets back, minus their contents. "You may as well keep these for now. You'll need somewhere to put the new IDs."_

_Olivia copied Elliot's movements, each taking their respective wallet back and opening it up. Inside, where there had once been a license, a name, a self, there was nothing. The childish wallet looked stupid once again and Olivia dropped it onto the seat between them. Maybe she was tired of traveling. Maybe once she got a good night's sleep in a bed she could call her own, regardless of the circumstances, she would feel better. Maybe it was exhaustion and uncertainty and confusion and discomfort that were leaving her unable to make up her mind about anything. Maybe she would be able to relax in a new home and then she could figure out what the hell she was going to do._

_The rest of the ride was quiet. The backseat was dead silent; its occupants too unsure of anything to even come up with questions to ask. The couple in the front seat chatted away in hushed voices; the bits Olivia could understand sounded like a case. It hurt, made her long for the countless times she and Elliot had spent discussing details around something they were investigating. It was a part of her that was dead, at least for the foreseeable future; there was no Detective Benson anymore._

_Her melancholy was interrupted by Walter's voice. "Here you are." As he spoke, he pulled haphazardly into a handicapped parking space outside a large office building. "Twelfth floor, ask for Doug."_

_Olivia didn't have to check with Elliot. She knew he was every bit as dumbfounded at the dismissal. "Wait-"_

_Ellen smacked Walter's shoulder. "Don't be obnoxious. Pop the trunk." She unhooked her seat belt and climbed out of the van, leaning in to speak to the occupants in the back seat. "Come on, I've got your stuff."_

_Having forgotten once again about her own medication, Olivia decided that sleep was definitely what was missing from her normal thought process. She'd never once missed a pill in the weeks she'd been out of the hospital; she was capable of that much responsibility, but not under these circumstances. She wasn't going to be hard on herself for that, she figured most people would have trouble keeping track of what was going on._

_Ellen was already talking by the time Olivia made it back to the trunk. "Got your meds here." She unzipped her suitcase and pulled out the mangled brown paper bag. "Sorry, it was a little cramped in there." She handed Elliot the carry-ons, then slammed the trunk closed and inclined her head toward the building. "I'll walk you in. You're not going to get past security this time of night without ID." She tapped on the driver's window, shouting, "Move the car before you get a ticket, asshole!"_

_Olivia followed as Ellen chattered away at Elliot. He wasn't bothering to respond, his eyes continually darting back to her, as if he somehow knew that she had a death grip on her bag. Everything was so damn nerve-racking that she was ready to scream at Ellen's eager description of how the San Diego weather was the best in the world. Instead of giving into the impulse though, Olivia squeezed the handles of her bag tighter and swore to herself that things weren't nearly as bad as she feared._


	38. Chapter 38

Part Thirty-Eight  
_After_

_As promised, Ellen escorted them past the security desk and up to the twelfth floor, where she asked a young receptionist for Doug. When the young woman disappeared through a set of double doors, Ellen turned back to them. _

_"Doug Stafford is the next link in the chain. Good luck." And with that, Ellen was gone from their lives just as suddenly as she'd entered them._

_Elliot leaned over and whispered, "I thought she was supposed to be our contact."_

_Olivia shrugged, looking at her wrist to check the time. "I keep thinking it's really late, but I guess it's not that late out here." She yawned involuntarily as she reset her watch to West Coast time._

_"We're done moving, at least for the night. I'll insist they let us sleep here if nothing else." His arm slid around her shoulders, his hand squeezing her upper arm. "You must be exhausted."_

_She glared at him, wishing he'd stop making her health his only priority. "This hasn't been a fun day for either of us."_

_A short man with a ring of graying hair around the middle portion of his head propped open one of the double doors, waiting for the receptionist to return to her desk before he addressed the visitors. "Come on back." When Olivia and Elliot got closer, he extended his hand. "Welcome to San Diego. I'm Agent Doug Stafford. I'm going to be your permanent contact as long as you're here."_

_Olivia didn't have to fake a smile as she shook his hand. "I'm uh-"_

_Stafford held up his hand. "I know. I'll tell you who you are in a sec." He leaned past them toward the reception desk. "Becky, bring us some coffee, would you? These guys look dead on their feet."_

_He led the pair to his office, the small square overwhelmed by the large desk and humongous piles of paper on top of it. There were shelves jammed full of books, an overflowing waste basket labeled "shredder" and enough half-empty coffee cups to open a recycling center. It reminded Olivia vaguely of Cragen's office, much like Stafford reminded her of her boss somewhat, and so she felt marginally comfortable as she sat down in one of the chairs facing the overworked desk._

_Stafford took a few minutes to sort through some files on his blotter haphazardly, as though he really hadn't expected anyone to interrupt and certainly not them. Once again, Olivia questioned the whole operation, wondering how organized it could be if their permanent contact in witness relocation hadn't even known they were coming._

_He offered an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, Becky's always telling me I need to get organized." He pulled a file folder from one of the taller stacks. "I know where everything is though, so you're good." Opening the folder, he lifted out a pile of small items, about the size of credit cards, sorting them roughly in half without looking while he scanned a paper in the folder. "Ok, Florence and Ernest, here are-"_

_Elliot's snort cut the man off in the middle of his sentence. "You've got to be kidding me."_

_Stafford looked confused, like he couldn't imagine anyone objecting to his words, but slowly, confusion settled in on his face as he looked at Elliot, then Olivia, and then back at the items in his hands. "Oops, wrong folder." With a shake of his head, he pulled several files off the stack, dropped them on his desk, and started sorting through them._

_Olivia looked at Elliot, trying to be as amused as he was. The nervous butterflies whispered to her that she could hardly trust this man and that she'd been terribly mistaken to find anything remotely resembling Captain Cragen in the disorganized mess of a man responsible for keeping them alive._

_She forced a smile anyway. "You don't really look like an Ernest." If that was the other choice, she'd prefer he go back to being Bill._

_Elliot winked at her. "No more than you look like a Florence."_

_Becky pushed through the door, two cups of coffee balanced in one hand, the other full of creamers and sugar packets. "I wasn't sure how you guys take it, so I brought everything."_

_"Thank you, Becky." Stafford dismissed the woman almost before Olivia and Elliot had managed to accept their coffees. As soon as the door closed behind her, Stafford repeated his earlier motions, separating the small items in his hands as he read the file. He glanced down at the objects, then squinted at Olivia, obviously comparing her to something. "Yeah, you're Abigail. Right file this time," he grinned._

_Abigiail. She'd never thought about it, but she was pretty sure she liked it better than Kelly._

_"Abby?" Elliot's voice called her attention, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, that's ok."_

_Olivia scoffed. "What? Like it's up to you?"_

_With a shrug, he chuckled. "I'm the one who has to say it."_

_Both irritated and comforted by his smugness, Olivia tried to smile and snarl at the same time. "It's my name. If it's up to anyone, it should be up to me."_

_Stafford, who watched the volley with an amused smirk, jumped in. "Technically, it's up to me, but if you've got some legitimate grip…" He trailed off, making it seem as though he might be willing, though unhappy, to hear a complaint._

_Olivia glanced at Elliot and shrugged. "No, it's fine."_

_Elliot sat back with a smirk. "Told you."_

_She fixed her eyes back on Stafford. "Please tell me he's stuck with Ernest."_

_The older man shook his head, clearly amused by the pair, and then handed over the items in his right hand – a driver's license and a few credit cards in the name of Abigail Reilly. He extended his left hand to Elliot, offering a similar pile of identification. "And you're Benjamin Reilly." He sat back in his chair, allowing the pair a few moments to absorb their new identities. "Of course, you'll have to report to Motor Vehicle to update your addresses, since you're moving to a new house tomorrow."_

_For a moment, Olivia wanted to scream, thinking he was giving them yet another temporary name. Slowly his words sank in. "We're moving?"_

_Stafford nodded as he thumbed through the papers in the folder, finally selecting one sheet and pulling it out. "You'll stay in a hotel tonight. Tomorrow morning, you'll drive to your new home and the moving van will be there soon after to deliver your furniture."_

_"What about clothes?" Elliot looked irritated, clearly expecting everything would be as ill-fitting as those he was already wearing._

_Olivia had nearly forgotten about her own clothes until her partner's words, but suddenly, she really wanted a better option than what she had. She lifted up the credit cards. "Are these any good?"_

_Stafford smiled. "You'll be expected to pay the bills, of course. You each have a bank account set up, as well as a joint account, and each has enough money to get you settled until your paychecks start coming in." He reached for another piece of paper, handing it to Elliot. "Write down your sizes there for casual clothes. We'll get you each a little bit so you're not in the same outfit until you buy your own." Flipping back to the paper he had been previously looking at, he smiled at Olivia. "With your health currently, we didn't put you in a full time position. You have a teaching background, so we fudged the credentials to bring them current. You'll be substituting as an English teacher for high school, also occasionally elementary school assignments. They'll call you to set up an interview, just to get to know you, but they've already accepted you in the position."_

_Olivia was dumbfounded for a moment. It had been so long since she'd thought about teaching; she wasn't sure she'd remember what the hell she was doing in front of a classroom. Being a cop was obviously out of the question, but she couldn't imagine herself doing anything else anymore. She could feel Elliot's eyes on her and she knew he couldn't imagine it either. Unless he'd done some digging into her background when they'd first been assigned together, she doubted he had any idea of her background in teaching. But Stafford had been limited, after all; there really wasn't anything else she was trained to do._

_She nodded and smiled, deciding that a job she'd once sought after was definitely a better fit than being a checker in the grocery store. "That's great. Thanks."_

_Stafford seemed relieved that she wasn't going to argue and turned to Elliot. "Your military history came in handy. You're now a master sergeant; you'll report and receive your orders on Monday."_

_Elliot glanced at Olivia, his apprehension giving away that he obviously understood more than she did. When he spoke, he confirmed her suspicions. "We're going to Camp Pendleton, aren't we?"_

_She nearly fell out of her chair. "What?"_

_Elliot snickered and looked down, already certain of the answer._

_Stafford held up his hand to stave off any arguments from Olivia. "We had to take a lot of things into consideration here. First of all, living and working on a military base have decided safety benefits. Secondly, it allowed us to put both of you in careers that were not totally alien situations for you, which has presented problems for those who've gone before you." He took a breath and fixed his eyes on her. "And most importantly, keeping your health in mind, there's a Naval hospital located on the base. Your medical records were able to be copied and forwarded there without anyone knowing you are anyone but the wife of a newly reassigned Marine."_

_Not what she expected. Not at all. But, she decided, it wasn't the worst option._

_"So I'll be working on the base?" She knew there were schools on military bases; she'd just never imagined having anything to do with them._

_Stafford nodded. "Now, you're not restricted to the base. You're free to come and go as you please, though you will, of course, have to go through their checkpoint whenever you do." His eyes suddenly shifted to Elliot, his index finger pointing toward Elliot's hand. "Is that inscribed?"_

_Olivia followed Stafford's gaze to the wedding band she'd long ago stopped noticing on her partner's finger._

_Elliot shook his head. "No, it-" His voice cut off abruptly; his eyes darting to somewhere a tad bit below Olivia's. "Actually, yeah, it is." He slipped it off his finger without so much as a second thought, at least not one that was obvious to Olivia, and tossed it onto Stafford's desk._

_The agent stood up long enough to pull a set of keys from his pocket before he dropped back to his seat and propelled his chair toward one of his filing cabinets, then selected a key and reached over to unlock one of the drawers. He withdrew a small lockbox from one drawer and dialed in his combination. When the top of the small box opened, Stafford looked up at Olivia. "You already gave up your ring?" _

_Confused, Olivia stared back at him for a moment. "I don't have one."_

_"Ok, good, you don't happen to know what size ring you wear, do you?" He didn't wait for an answer, just took Elliot's original ring and started holding it up to a series of wedding bands until he found what he was looking for. He threw it to Elliot. "See if that fits."_

_A little dismayed at the utter casualness of something that she felt should have been somewhat sacred, Olivia shrugged when Stafford's eyes turned back to her. "Um, a five, I think." And suddenly, a ring with a small tag attached that read 5 was tossed at her. She glanced at Elliot, hoping he would stay something to stop her from feeling like she was about to cry._

_He winked. "Should I get down on one knee?"_

_Cracking a smile in relief, she slid the ring onto her finger. "Yeah, this is fine."_

_Elliot pulled the little tag off his own. "Mine too."_

_Stifling a yawn, Olivia glanced at her watch. Something about the way Stafford kept referring to his paperwork made her suspect that there was a hell of a lot more to do before she'd be getting that sleep she so desperately wanted._

_As always, Elliot picked up on her thoughts. "Look, we appreciate this and all, but it's been a long fucking day and she was just discharged from a hospital not quite twelve hours ago. Think we can do some of this in the morning?"_

_Stafford was shocked. So shocked, in fact, his mouth fell open and he stared for a long moment. "Well, yeah, sure." He glanced at Olivia to see if she was in agreement. "Most folks are eager to get all their new information and stuff."_

_Olivia yawned again, finally speaking after she rubbed her eyes. "We're not most people."_

_Stafford, who was none too pleased to have his little routine interrupted, begrudgingly handed over their new phones and the keys to a Jeep. They'd be getting a second car, he promised, but it wasn't ready yet. After that, with strict instructions that they were absolutely not to go sight-seeing until after they finished up in the morning, Stafford let them go._

_Elliot and Olivia were silent as they made their way out to the parking lot. Elliot led the way to through the unfamiliar cars, using the key fob to try every vehicle, even the cars, until he finally found the Jeep to which the keys belonged. Olivia wanted to point out that he'd wasted time by not just looking for Jeeps, but arguing with him required too much energy for her to muster. _

_He pulled open the driver's door, belatedly glancing at her. "You want to drive?"_

_She didn't answer, mutely walking around and climbing into the passenger seat. She didn't want to drive. She didn't want to argue. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to sleep._

_Elliot took a few minutes to adjust the mirrors and his seat, his unnecessary, displeased muttering cluing Olivia in on the fact that he was every bit as tired as she was. Such was their pattern. They'd faced enough long days in their history to recognize that exhaustion made her quiet and him grumpy. Luckily, they'd also learned a long time earlier that by leaving each other alone, they could escape a fight neither of them wanted to have._

_It was about fifteen unbearably long minutes later when Elliot put on his turn signal to pull into a parking lot. Olivia had been half-dozing in her seat, and so took a moment to blink sleepily at the sign outside the motel. Red Roof Inn._

_She glared at Elliot. "Oh, hell fucking no."_

_"It's cheap," he offered with a shrug._

_"It's not our money." She folded her arms over her chest and continued to glare until Elliot turned on the other signal and pulled back into traffic. "If it's all the same to you, let's stay someplace we've never had to drag a suspect out of."_

_Elliot turned to her with a blank stare. "When did you ever drag a suspect out of anywhere, Abby?"_

_Olivia turned away, in no mood to play. "Fuck you, Elliot."_

_God only knew how long it would be before she could call him that again. She knew he was right, that they needed to be all-in for this to work, that they needed to embrace their new lives. But that didn't mean she had to face it right then; she'd deal with it in the morning. Some sleep and a hot shower and Olivia could handle transforming into Abigail. Until then, Olivia felt she had every right to hold onto her own attitude._

_"There's a Best Western. That ok, princess?"_

_She looked in the direction he was pointing. At least there were no hookers outside. Not obvious ones anyway. "Yeah, that's fine."_

_Elliot took forever to check in and the whole time he was inside, she was cursing him. The moment he reappeared, with a key in his hand, however, she forgave him for taking so long. He ducked into the backseat and grabbed their bag, before opening her door for her. _

_"Do you have any idea how hard it is to check into a motel when you don't know your own address?"_

_She felt bad for him, realizing he hadn't been dragging his feet intentionally. "At least we have a place to sleep, right?"_

_"It sure as hell beats sleeping in a chair in a hospital." He smiled, pointing toward the staircase. "Second floor, two-fifteen."_

_The minute he opened the door and flipped on the light switch, he groaned. "Fuck. I asked for two beds."_

_Olivia looked at the king sized bed and wanted nothing more than to crawl into it. "I don't fucking care." She stepped into the room, sat down on the side of the bed, and untied her sneakers. _

_With a snort, Elliot dropped the bags and let the door slam behind him. "Well, we are married." He waited for her to look up before he grinned. "Again."_

_She rolled her eyes and shook out her medicines on the bed. Finally she had a chance to look at the paperwork the doctor had sent her home with and she was too tired to pay it the attention it needed. She checked the list of medications along with their doses and times. Not too many changes, she told herself. It wouldn't be hard to get back into the pattern of taking them like clockwork. Taking the time to line them up on the bedside table, she separated the one she'd take in the morning from the afternoon and evening ones. _

_When she'd finished getting her pills ready, she looked up to see Elliot pawing through his bag, as though he expected to find something had miraculous appeared in there since he'd last looked. "I'm going to take a shower." He glanced up at her, waiting for an argument. "Unless you want to get one first?"_

_She shook her head. "I'll take one in the morning." Peeling her socks off and tossing them on top of her shoes, she wished she had something else to sleep in. The oversized clothes she had one were comfortable enough for traveling, but sleeping in jeans wasn't her favorite thing in the world. Unfortunately, the only truly uncomfortable item she was wearing – the too small panties –wasn't going anywhere._

_Feeling Elliot's stare, she looked up. "What?"_

_He nodded at her socks and shoes. "Well, if anymore is coming off, I thought I'd stay and watch."_

_She picked up one of her shoes and threw it at his back as he retreated through the bathroom door. There was nothing else in her head besides thoughts of sleep, but somehow, those thoughts invariably brought up thoughts that he'd be sleeping in the same bed. Knowing the man and his ego as she did, and understanding that he'd been miserably uncomfortable in his too-tight clothes, she fully expected he was coming out of the bathroom in tighty-whiteys if he wore anything at all. Therefore, for her own mental health, she decided she needed to be sound asleep before he slid into the bed beside her._

_Slipping under the blankets, she tried to force herself to sleep. Tired as she was, sleep eluded her. She was strangely excited at the notion of sharing a bed with him, even though she vaguely remembered having done so with him before she was stabbed, but those memories were hazy. She couldn't even be sure they were real; she'd been so fucking drunk at the time she wouldn't be surprised if she'd dreamt up the idea of his body pressing against hers, the feel of his arm curling around her waist._

_She flipped between her sides repeatedly until she wound up as tangled in her sweater as she was in the sheets. Eyeing her bag on the desk where Elliot had dropped it, she remembered the hoodie. She got up, glancing at the bathroom door, hearing the shower still running. She had no idea how long he'd be in there and she didn't want him to walk out on her while she was half dressed, so she moved quickly, taking off her sweater and jeans and pulling on the hoodie. She zipped it up, making sure she was covered should Elliot unexpectedly wander out right then, and then pulled her arms in the sleeves to take off her bra. Satisfied she'd managed to change into something slightly more comfortable, she balled up her clothes and stuff them in her bag._

_Then she burrowed back under the covers, telling herself there was nothing wrong with wishing Elliot really had snuggled up to her._


	39. Chapter 39

Part Thirty-Nine  
_After_

_There was something to be said for infections, particularly untreated ones. Infections brought fevers and fevers brought fever dreams. And while fever dreams were generally less than wonderful, they did mercifully prevent the nightmares._

_Olivia had been sick the night before, allowing her a peaceful night in the hospital. Had she been any less exhausted when she'd crawled into the hotel bed she might have anticipated the return of the nightmares. But she'd been thinking of other things, like what Elliot might think when he joined her in that bed and discovered her sleeping in nothing besides his sweatshirt. Even normal nights in her apartment when she knew the nightmares were coming she was hardly prepared for them._

_Every time she went to sleep for more than fifteen minutes, the images appeared, unbidden, unwanted, unchanging. It was always the same – it was always that morning. She was collapsed on the bathroom floor, weak from vomiting, too sick to sleep, too tired to get up. She stared at her arm where she had propped herself against the tub, seeing the rough red spots from Elliot's fingers when he'd hauled her up from the hallway where she'd tripped and tossed her in the bathroom._

_She couldn't remember why he was mad; she assumed it was because she was so drunk. She'd never been so terribly drunk in her life. In between bouts of throwing up her insides, she'd tried, and failed, to remember what the hell had driven her to drink so much. Something must have happened because, even if she'd climbed up on a table and done a strip tease, she couldn't fathom Elliot being as mad as he was at her._

_Then she'd heard the doorbell, some part of her hoping that it was Eliot returning to check on her, that maybe he'd forgotten his keys. But when she found the strength to drag herself to her feet, staggering to the door to let him in, it was an odd, unhappy trio she found instead. She saw the way Valentina smirked, her eyes darting to her husband's. She saw the disapproval in Eugeny's face, as though he had never drank enough to be sick. She saw Peter's frightened face, his soft smile revealing that he didn't envy her._

_She allowed them entrance, her sense of duty demanding that she pull herself together, then she excused herself, hurrying to the bedroom to change out of her clothes from the party and brush her teeth. Before she made her way back to her guests, she tried to find her phone to let Elliot know there was trouble, but she had no idea where she'd left it._

_Her stomach dropped through the floor when she reached the living room. The three of them were lined up on the couch. Peter was in the middle, looking like he was scared shitless. And in that moment, Olivia knew she was screwed. She had no way to reach Elliot or call for backup, her contact within the organization had been made, and she didn't have the faintest clue where her gun was. _

_Trying like hell to keep the fear out of her voice, she motioned behind her. "I think I hear my phone. I'll just grab that real quick."_

_Eugeny was beside her in a moment, his hand sliding against her back where Elliot's usually was. "You should not be rude to your friends." He smiled, pushing her forward a step. "Besides, I hear nothing."_

_Involuntarily steered into the room, Olivia forced a smile. "You'll forgive me, I wasn't feeling well this morning." She paused, hoping someone would break the silence. But when Eugeny did, Olivia wished she'd shut the door in their faces. At least then she would have had a fighting chance._

_"Perhaps if you offer my wife some tea, she will forgive your rudeness."_

_Olivia's stomach somersaulted at the suggestion, but she nodded. "Where are my manners?" She turned to Valentina, knowing her face revealed how very sick she felt. "Valentina, would you like some tea?"_

_The older woman stood up, frowning at her. "You may call me Ms. Simonovich."_

_Swallowing hard and telling herself that cooperating was the only way to get out of the dangerous situation alive, Olivia nodded and ducked her head to acknowledge the correction. "I beg your pardon, Ms. Simonovich. Would you care for some tea?"_

_Valentina's smile reminded Olivia of a shark about to bite. "Yes, Sarah, I think we would all enjoy a cup of tea."_

_"I'll put some water on." As Olivia entered the kitchen, she heard Valentina's heels hitting the floor behind her. Her eyes scanned the room, locating quite a few potential weapons. The problem, however, didn't lie in besting the petite woman following her. Eugeny, who was undoubtedly armed and had a hostage, would pose the biggest risk. _

_Knowing she would have to wait until the odds were in her favor, Olivia took her time putting the kettle on to boil and pulling four cups and saucers from the cabinets. Valentina was simply watching her, and Olivia thought that perhaps she was fooling the other woman. She hoped that Peter's cover hadn't been blown, that maybe they just suspected something, that if she knew where to find the correct ingredients for morning tea, it might present the idea that Olivia was exactly who she claimed to be. _

_The whistle of the kettle nearly made her jump out of her skin and she tried to laugh it off as she set everything on a tray._

_Valentina found amusement in her reaction, cracking the first real smile Olivia had seen on her haggard face. "You are nervous, no?"_

_Olivia laughed and shook her head. "My head was somewhere else. It just surprised me."_

_"Why would you be nervous to have tea with friends?"_

_Forcing her hands not to shake from the anxiety Valentina's questions, and their suspicious tone, produced, Olivia carried the tray into the dining room where she found Eugeny and Peter already seated. She wasn't sure she'd make it five more minutes before she was sick again, her hangover hardly helped by the adrenaline surge. Still, she forced herself to serve the tea, choking her way through offering sugar, milk, and lemon. When Eugeny requested honey, Olivia wanted to smack him. Instead, she apologized and explained they didn't have any. Edward was allergic to it, she lied, therefore it was safer not to have any around._

_Olivia sat across from Peter while the Russian couple discussed various bits of bullshit – they were making small talk, hitting on the weather, current events, and something about Vasya's plans for the rest of the summer. Olivia searched her memory, trying to figure out why she remembered the name, but she drew a blank. It was all she could do to force down a few sips of her drink while her stomach tried valiantly to reject it. While the other pair continued to engage in meaningless conversation, Olivia tried repeatedly to catch Peter's eye._

_The most she was able to get out of him was as he finished his tea, when he clumsily knocked the cup over, spilling a few drops on the tablecloth. He finally met her stare, his face stricken with guilt as he spoke. "I'm so sorry, Sarah."_

_His unexpected and almost entirely unwarranted words spurred Eugeny into motion. He stood, bowing slightly to Valentina before he addressed Olivia. "Might I use your powder room?"_

_"Certainly." Standing, Olivia took a step toward the living room. "It's right this way."_

_Eugeny held up his hand. "I'm sure Petya knows the way. He has been here many times."_

_"I wouldn't say many, Edward only just-"_

_"It's ok, Sarah. I'll show him." Peter offered her a smile, a sad, hopeless look in his eyes._

_Unsure of what to do, wondering if Peter had been trying to send her some kind of signal that she had missed, Olivia stood there, trying to collect herself. Her eyes moved to Valentina as the woman rose from her chair with a smug grin twisting her lips. It was the happy gleam in her eyes that caused Olivia to turn back to the living room in time to see Eugeny's gun raised. Her mouth opened in horror, wanting to scream, but no sound came forth as she watched Eugeny pull the trigger._

_He was being cruel on purpose, she knew, his first two bullets wounding Peter. One struck his shoulder, the other his arm. The third was right in his gut, knocking the man off his feet. Eugeny was laughing, Olivia could hear the sound ringing in her ears, even as she stared at Peter. He was trying to move away, trying to get up. Eugeny moved closer, pulling the trigger twice more. Those shots pulled a gut-wrenching scream of pain from Peter._

_Eugeny moved even closer, leaning down over Peter's face as he put the gun to the man's head. "You have not been such a good friend, Petya. You disappointed me."_

_Olivia's eyes were closed when the last shot sounded. She couldn't bear to watch._

_It was sound of Valentina's heels on the hardwood floor that pulled her eyes open. She had to move. She had to run._

_Even if it meant she was going to get shot in the back._

_She ran for the kitchen, knowing she could outrun Valentina, praying she could surprise Eugeny and get past him from the other side._

_But as she rounded the kitchen counter, she saw Eugeny standing in the doorway, cutting off her chance of escape. He was laughing still, the gun in his hand, his arm hanging at his side._

_For the moment, she wondered what the fuck he was doing. He was there to kill her. Even if that hadn't been the plan originally, even if he didn't know she was a cop, she'd just seen him murder someone in cold blood. There was no chance he was going to let her walk away._

_His cold chuckle stopped her in her tracks. The sound of footsteps behind her made her turn._

_The first strike was hard and fast and merciless. She didn't even know what it was. There was suddenly excruciating pain in her side, so sharp it dropped her to her knees. Still not sure what was happening, she felt her torso jerk back, the searing pain striking again before she dropped the rest of the way to the ground._

_Her hand automatically reached for her side, knowing the warm wetness was blood, her brain unable to process what the hell was going on. She couldn't get up. She couldn't move. She felt the pain again, this time tearing her hand in the process. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't find enough air._

_She was lying there, face down, unable to make a sound from the sheer force of the pain shooting through her body._

_Eugeny's voice sounded again, his amusement gone, replaced with the harshness she remembered. "Make sure she is dead."_

_Olivia lay perfectly still, praying to god that they would leave her there, assuming she was already gone._

_But instead, the pain came again, too sharp to fully comprehend. And then there were hands rolling her onto her back. She thought then that maybe she'd blacked out, that perhaps it was the paramedics who were rolling her over._

_No. It was the hard, unfeeling brown eyes of Valentina staring at her. "She is dead." Valentina laughed, raising the bloody knife Olivia recognized as having come from the set on the counter. _

_Olivia raised her hands in a pathetic attempt to defend herself, feeling more pain when Valentina used the blade to bat them away. It was only as she watched the woman plunging the knife into her side that she even realized she'd been stabbed. _

_Leaving the knife in place, Valentina smiled at her handiwork and then looked at her husband. "She will be soon enough."_

_Eugeny walked over, looking down at Olivia, grinning at the sight of her battered, bloodied body. "Yes, soon." He kicked her then, jarring the knife where it rested, laughing at the way Olivia's mouth twisted with a silent scream at the pain. He motioned at the sink, waving a handkerchief. "Wash your hands."_

_Olivia listened as the woman did as she was told, taking the time to scrub the blood from her fingers. She listened to the footsteps as they left her behind. She listened to the front door open and close. She kept waiting for one of them to return. To taunt her. To finish the job. To put her out of her misery._

_No one did._

_She didn't want to die like that. Fuck, she didn't want to die at all. She needed to get to the phone._

_Reaching out, Olivia's hand grabbed at the cabinet, the surface slick with her own blood, her fingers unable to find purchase. She tried to sit up, finding the scream that had been missing earlier falling from her mouth without any conscious thought._

_As she lay there, trying to catch her breath, trying to summon up the courage to try again, her hand fell onto her stomach. She felt the handle, felt the pain deep inside where her accidental contact had stirred the blade where it rested._

_She had no idea how she found the strength to pull the knife from her side. She didn't even remember doing so. She only knew at some point it had wound up in her hand._

_She continued to struggle, the curse of consciousness refusing to leave her despite the immense pain. She kept telling herself that the pain was good, the pain meant she was still alive. _

_Somehow, she managed to roll onto her side, but doing so only increased the throbbing pain in her body. Living didn't seem so important anymore, not if the pain would just fucking stop._

_Her eyes drifted closed, her mind searching for more pleasant things as the pain seemed to fade away._

_She thought of Elliot. At first, it was a welcome, happy thought, the idea of her partner bringing a smile to her face. But sheer terror coursed through her as she realized he might have been the first target. He could have been dead before the Simonovichs knocked on her door. Perhaps knowing that Elliot was dead was the reason Peter had been unwilling to meet her eyes; perhaps Elliot's death had been the reason Peter had been so very sorry._

_Tears dripped down her face as the knife slipped from her grasp. If he was dead, she didn't want to live. It was that simple._

_Just as consciousness finally, mercifully, left her, she whispered his name, one last prayer that he would be saved._

_Then they were back, shaking her, yelling at her, hurting her. She wanted to cry out, to ask them why they wouldn't leave her alone, to beg them to just allow her to die. Except this time, rather than laughing at Sarah's distress as they usually did, they were talking to her. To her. To Olivia. Not to Sarah._

_She dragged her eyes open, fully expecting to see Valentina and Eugeny, her voice forcing out a weak whisper. "No!"_

_But it wasn't Eugeny and Valentina. It was Elliot. And he wasn't hurting her. He was leaning over her, his hand on her cheek._

_"Liv, Liv, it's ok. I'm here. Wake up." He moved his hand from her face, touching her shoulder, shaking her gently._

_Instinctively, she pushed at his hand, still trying to fight away the very real demons in her memory. She was shaking, holding Elliot's eyes as she tried to ground herself in reality. _

_"Shhh, Liv, it was just a nightmare."_

_That was the problem, though, it wasn't just a nightmare. The monsters she'd dreamt of really existed; the horror was very real. It was a memory, not a fantasy._

_Her chin trembled as she looked at him, telling herself over and over that she was ok now, that Elliot was safe too. Only they weren't. The Simonovichs were still after them. Hiding didn't make the problem go away. _

_"Elliot." She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly she lifted herself off the bed. "Oh, god, El." _

_His hand moved to support her, firmly pressing against her back, holding her close. His face tucked into her hair, his whisper falling against her ear. "Shhh, baby, it's ok. It's over. You're ok."_

_Not knowing what to say, how to tell him that nothing was ever going to be ok, she didn't say anything, instead clinging to him for the reassurance she'd been afraid to seek for all those weeks._

_His head turned, pressing a kiss against her cheek, sending a chill of a different kind through her body. The feel of his lips on her skin chased the remnants of the nightmare from her mind. She moaned involuntarily, her body instantly recalling the other times they'd kissed, remembering how they'd never resolved those feelings, demanding that she finish it. Her fingers dug into his back as her face slid against his, repositioning them so he could easily reach her mouth._

_He eagerly took advantage of her passive invitation, covering her mouth with his before she had a chance to take a breath. His lips were demanding, his tongue insistent. She couldn't have resisted him if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to. _

_God she'd fucking missed him. She'd missed being close enough to think they might share a kiss. She'd missed the not-quite-accidental touches. She'd missed those precious opportunities when their tongues were tangled together and she knew there was absolutely nothing on his mind besides her. _

_As his body pressed harder into hers, she felt his erection straining against his underwear and she knew he too wanted the resolution she'd denied them both previously. His hand slid along her leg, starting at her knee and slowly moving upward. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like that, even Elliot himself hadn't gotten that far in their earlier interludes. She wanted to let her head fall back and revel in it, in the idea that he was hers, for the next few years at least._

_But he wasn't really hers. And two nights earlier, he'd been in bed with his wife. He could well have been sliding his hand along his wife's thigh._

_The thought might as well have slapped her across the face._

_She jerked back, pulling her hands away from him, pushing her legs closed from where they'd fallen open. "Stop."_

_It didn't matter how much she wanted him. She knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't reach for him in fear and let him comfort her. She couldn't let him continue the charade they'd started playing at while they were undercover. She couldn't let him use her when his wife wasn't available. He'd tried that once already and she'd nearly fallen for it._

_She pushed him away harder, using his confusion as a chance to get away from him. She moved to the edge of the bed, sitting up. She heard him moving behind her, but she waved her hand dismissively at him. "No, don't." She stood up, grabbing her bag and ducking into the bathroom without giving him a chance to speak._

_As she adjusted the shower knobs, Olivia tried to calm herself down. She was used to waking up with the images fresh in her mind. It was Elliot, she decided, who wasn't used to waking up to someone in the throws of a nightmare, and if he was, he certainly wasn't the sort to roll over and go back to sleep. Of course he was going to try to comfort her. He wouldn't be Elliot if he didn't._

_She took her time in the shower, using the smelly hotel shampoo to wash her hair a couple of times, hoping the extra delay would ensure that Elliot would be sound asleep by the time she finished. She continued to drag her feet, toweling her hair as dry as she could in the steamy bathroom, applying the cheap lotion twice to eat up more time. _

_Having just cleaned herself, she faced the decision regarding her panties again. She had no qualms going without them, provided she was going to put her clothes back on. But it was only three in the morning, and so, she'd be going back for, hopefully, a few more hours of sleep. Wearing Elliot's sweatshirt alone, and not bothering with underwear, well, that seemed like it might be inviting trouble. But they were hardly clean enough to be worn, not after their little interlude there._

_The solution she arrived at had the pleasant side effect of wasting more time. She filled up the sink with soapy water and let the panties soak for a few minutes, figuring they'd be sort of clean and that she could use the hair dryer to dry them in the morning. Tossing the wet fabric in the bottom of her bag, she sighed and pulled the sweatshirt on. She didn't want to have to wear clothes she'd slept in; she'd have to settle for the sweatshirt._

_It was over an hour later when she opened the door, switching off the light and carefully making her way through the unfamiliar room in the darkness. She set her bag down on the desk gently, taking pains not to make much noise to avoid waking her partner._

_Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she turned back to the bed, expecting that she could crawl in and at least close her eyes if not sleep._

_Elliot was sitting up, staring at her._


	40. Chapter 40

Part Forty  
_After_

_She felt a shiver run through her. There could only be one reason for Elliot to have been sitting there in the dark waiting for her – he was pissed off. She had a nightmare. He woke her. Things got out of hand. She took a shower. What the fuck was his problem? Did he expect an apology?_

_Too tired to worry about it, she ignored him and walked back over to the bed. She reached for the covers to pull them back, trying to pretend she didn't notice him staring at her. It was going to be hard enough to keep her current state of undress from him during the rest of the night without him watching her._

_She tried, nevertheless, tugging on the sweatshirt as she situated herself on her back. She always preferred to lie on her side, but as a nod to modesty, she felt sleeping flat on her back might be best. She pulled the covers up and closed her eyes._

_"Are you just going to ignore me?"_

_Sighing, she opened her eyes to glance at him for a moment. "Yeah, that was the plan."_

_"You do realize that we're effectively married now. At the very least, we're going to be living together for the next few years." He shifted closer, until she could make out his features even in the darkness. "You're not going to be able to hide from me."_

_It was her defense mechanism. When she was scared or angry or upset or uncomfortable, she hid. Literally or figuratively. And after so many years as her partner, Elliot fucking knew that. He was calling her on it. And she hated him for it._

_Of course, after so many years as his partner, she knew his weak spots too. She glared at him. "I'm not sure your actual wife would agree that we're married."_

_He narrowed his eyes and she could see him fighting back the urge to really get into it with her. But it was the middle of the night for him too and she imagined the exhaustion effected his decision. "You'll talk to me eventually." Rolling away from her, he tugged the blanket and settled in for the night. "And I'll be here when you decide to."_

_She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. She wanted him to be angry. She wanted him to say mean things. Because then she could say mean things back and not have to feel bad. Instead, he'd been decent and tried to get her to talk like any friend or coworker might when it was obvious that there was a problem._

_But she was right; she was sure of it. He was used to having a spouse – someone he could confide in, someone who would confide in him. He probably expected that she'd snuggle up to him and have sex with him all in the interest of playing the role she'd been assigned. He probably also expected that when the time came for them to go back home she would simply step back and be his partner again, having no trouble whatsoever uncrossing all those lines._

_She wasn't going to let him confuse her more. She wasn't going to let herself get confused. She wasn't going to let him get confused either. There had to be a line and they had to respect it or they'd both go insane long before the Simonvichs were behind bars._

_She shivered again at the thought of the bastards responsible for ruining their lives._

_Then she rolled onto her side facing away from Elliot and promised herself that she wouldn't dream. Not of them. Not of him._

_Unfortunately, allowing the Simonvichs and Elliot to cross her mind as she drifted back to sleep was a mistake. Rather than the awful dreams she was used to, the memories of what she'd survived, her mind was all too happy to mix true and false together. The nightmare that resulted was the worst she could ever remember. It was exactly like her memory, horrific as that had been, but rather than watching Peter murdered in front of her, it was Elliot. And rather than moving on to her own attack, the events stopped and repeated, giving her the terror of watching Elliot shot over and over again._

_Her scream might well have woken the dead. It certainly woke everyone else in the hotel that night._

_She lay there, shaking, whimpering, unable to even draw in a whole breath as it seemed to replay even while she was awake. She couldn't get the sight of Elliot dying in front of her out of her head._

_Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she went to turn, intending to reach for him, unconcerned with what he might have to say about her behavior. But she couldn't move, not with the way he'd scooted up behind her, not with how his arms had snaked around her to hold her tight._

_His voice was in her ear again, whispering sweetly, assuring her that he was ok, that she was ok._

_Her arms moved over his, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscles, letting the sensations promise her that he was alive. Her fingers closed around his hands, holding him tight to keep him from deciding to let go._

_Eventually, her sobs died off and her tears dried. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to go back to sleep for fear of seeing it all again. She wasn't sure she could ever bear one moment without Elliot's arms around her proving that he was alive and well._

_"You ok?" His voice was soft, as though he thought she might have fallen back to sleep._

_She shook her head. She wasn't ok if it meant he was going to withdraw back to the far side of the king bed._

_His arms tightened, pulling her hard against him, her body molding to his. "I'm here, Liv. Go back to sleep."_

_She turned her face into the arm he'd slid under her neck, inhaling the thick, familiar scent. And then she did sleep._

_It was an unfamiliar grunting sound that woke Olivia. The California sun was streaming in, despite the closed curtains, making her wonder how she'd slept in. But then she remembered the dreams she'd suffered through and decided it was more surprising that the soft, rhythmic grunting had actually roused her._

_Turning toward the sound, she saw Elliot on the floor by the foot of the bed, the muscles in his back and arms flexing as he worked through a series of push-ups. Just watching him repeatedly touching his nose to the floor before extending his arms was tiresome. She wondered how he could do them so easily. Even the grunting as he popped up each time seemed more a product of the movement than the effort._

_A grin spread across her face as she stared. She came to the conclusion that waking up to witness her partner's glorious body dripping with sweat, his muscles working beneath the skin, was hardly the worst way to wake up in the morning._

_As he rolled onto his back, she wiped the smile from her face, trying to keep her appreciation of his body to herself. He nodded at her, tucking his feet under the bed and beginning a series of sit-ups. His voice was breathy, a little strained as he spoke. "Morning."_

_The fact that he could not only do sit-ups that quickly, but actually speak during them disturbed her. Shaking her head, she flopped back on her side._

_Chuckling at her response, he spoke again, as if to prove just how excellent a shape he was in. "No run for you today, I take it?"_

_She pulled the pillow he'd slept on over her head. "I hate morning people. Hate them."_

_He spoke again after a few minutes. "I'm going to take a shower. I won't be long. You planning on getting up any time soon?"_

_Glaring at him, she sat up and tried to maintain some form of modesty. It was difficult, though, when she realized his sweatshirt had twisted up around her middle while she was sleeping. She wondered how much he'd seen._

_Judging from the way he disappeared into the bathroom without teasing her about the sweatshirt, she knew he'd seen plenty._

_With a sigh, she got up and grabbed her bag. Luckily the hair dryer was located by the second sink, the one outside the small bathroom. She knew Elliot wasn't joking about being quick in the shower; she'd watched him disappear to take a shower in the precinct more than once and come back less than ten minutes later so she knew she had to get dressed fast. With the hair dryer on high, her panties dried in only a minute, although they unfortunately wound up even smaller than they had been the day before. She hurriedly pulled on the rest of her clothes as well and was brushing her teeth when Elliot emerged from the steamy bathroom._

_He looked shocked to see her up. "I thought you'd be sound asleep."_

_She rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink to spit out the toothpaste. When she finished rinsing her mouth and the sink, she answered him. "I might not be a morning person, but I can't sleep through someone having aerobics class a foot away from my bed."_

_"You do realize I'm back on active duty now, right? Marines aren't known for being chubby."_

_Snickering, she pretended to be busy with something in her bag when Elliot dropped the towel he'd had wrapped around his waist without warning. "I'm not sure chubby is your problem." She could feel the blush burning her cheeks as she tried to ignore her partner as long as she could. Mercifully, he was in his jeans once again when she looked up. "Conceit, however, you might want to work on."_

_He was grinning, undoubtedly knowing full well his behavior was the reason for her red face. "Conceit? I call it confidence."_

_He'd probably been doing it to even the score she realized with the blush spreading more fiercely; he was offering her the peek he'd had at her. "More like arrogance." _

_Once he was dressed and she could think straight, she decided there was nothing wrong with his arrogance. He had a fantastic body, one he clearly worked hard at maintaining. There was nothing wrong with taking pride in an accomplishment. She sat down on the bed to put her socks and shoes on._

_"So I guess we're ready?" Elliot was leaning against the desk, watching her._

_"In a minute." Olivia checked her watch and, after referring to the paperwork from the doctor, opened four pills bottles. By the time she had the medicine in her palm, Elliot had filled one of the complimentary coffee cups with water and set it by the bottles. "Thanks." _

_Somehow taking her pills to keep the kidney he'd given her functional was more embarrassing than the idea that he'd seen her nude. Her priorities were really skewed, she knew. Maybe a few years in witness protection would give her time to analyze that fact._

_While Elliot was driving back to Stafford's office, Olivia stared at the ring on her finger. The shiny gold glinted in the sun and caught her eye, the weight of it felt strange on her hand. The idea, the meaning behind it, bothered her too. Not in principle, of course. But in reality, rather than the promise of togetherness, the only thing that came to her mind when she looked at it was the fact that her "husband" was already married. He'd seemed more than willing to hand over his real ring, an action that got under her skin. It must have been because he didn't want to use his real ring in a fake marriage. He didn't want to think of Kathy when he had to look at Olivia._

_She folded her hands in her lap and refused to think about it anymore, at least not when Elliot would be there to see her tears._

_Luckily, he hadn't noticed the shift in her mood. He glanced at her with a curious expression on his face. "So you were going to be a teacher, huh?"_

_She nodded and forced a smile. "Yeah, once upon a time."_

_He shook his head. "I can't see it. You're just such a-"_

_"Bitch?" She told herself it wasn't an insult, not in her career, but it still felt like one._

_"No, not a bitch. You're a bad-ass."_

_She laughed out loud. "Bad-ass?"_

_He laughed too. "Yeah, yeah, you are." He winked at her and grinned. "None of my teachers ever looked like you."_

_Ignoring the remark, she cocked her head to the side and considered her partner. "You were going to be a cop from the day you were born, weren't you?"_

_He nodded. "Yup. My dad was a cop, my granddad was a cop." He frowned for a second. "Not that I really wanted to follow in their footsteps. I guess it just never occurred to me to be anything else. I joined the Marines because it was the fastest way out of the house, but I always knew I'd be a cop eventually." Shaking his head, he redirected the conversation. "So why'd you want to be a teacher?"_

_"I'd like to say it was to change the world and inspire kids." She rolled her eyes as soon as Elliot looked over. "My mom was an English lit professor. I didn't want to deal with college kids, so I thought I'd teach high school. I liked it. It was nice. Simple. Certainly less complicated than another career I could mention."_

_"How'd you wind up a cop then?" Although his eyes were on the road, Olivia knew his attention was on her. The idea of her not being a cop was fascinating to him._

_"There was this one girl. She was brilliant. She was a freshman, but she was only thirteen because she'd skipped a grade. Straight As, teacher's pet with every teacher. She never caused any trouble." Olivia looked down at her hands, feeling the pain of the story all over again. "Then she disappeared for a week. When she came back to school, she'd stopped bathing and brushing her hair. She wore dirty clothes, started smoking, doing drugs, skipped classes most of the time. All the other teachers just thought she'd fallen in with some bad kids and she was going through some phase."_

_"But she wasn't, was she?" Even without having known the girl, Elliot knew the story. He'd heard the same sort of tale countless times in Special Victims._

_"One day when I was leaving, I bumped into her. She hadn't been in school all day, but she was just sitting there on the steps, smoking. I got her to start talking, it was the first time I'd gotten more than a shrug out of her in a month."_

_"You've always been good at that."_

_Olivia smiled at the compliment. "She told me her mom's new boyfriend had moved in with them over Christmas break. He beat the mother unconscious all the time. Then he'd crawl into Alison's bed." She paused for a moment, tears forming as she remembered sobbing along with the little girl as she confessed the truth. "She was just a baby, you know? I had to help her. She was terrified, but I promised I'd go to the police with her. I promised I'd stay with her and hold her hand until the son of a bitch was in prison where he belonged."_

_Elliot nodded, a ghost of a smile on his face despite the details. "You've always been good at that too."_

_"I had no idea there was such a thing as Special Victims. I'd always thought it was really rare; that my mom was one of a small few. That Alison was an anomaly." She could still vividly recall walking into the small room that housed the department at that time. It had been a revelation, discovering that rape and abuse were so widespread as to merit an entire department of the police. "I knew the minute I walked in there that I had to do something, for my mom, for Alison, for all the women and girls like them. I wanted to help."_

_"And you did." He looked at her, still smiling, something akin to pride on his face._

_She scoffed. "I tried to quit teaching that day, but there wasn't another class at the academy, so I finished the semester."_

_"Alison?"_

_There was one thing in the story to smile about. "Still calls me. She got her masters in English because of me."_

_"There, see, that's bad-ass." He was laughing as he pulled into the parking lot of Stafford's building. "Ready to see what else he's got for us, Abby?"_

_Grinning back, Olivia nodded. "Lead the way, Ben."_


	41. Chapter 41

Part Forty-One  
_After_

_Within minutes, they found themselves in Stafford's office. Same chairs, same over-cluttered office, same slightly distracted man. But he smiled at them like they were old friends. The recognition was something that Olivia had missed in the short time they'd been traveling. Meeting up with someone new every few hours had resulted in a disturbing lack of human connections. Olivia had never before realized how very dependent she was on them._

_Although it took him quite a few minutes to find the paperwork that had been on top of the stack less than twelve hours prior, Stafford was able to fall right back into his spiel as though no time had passed at all. He double checked that he'd already given them their phones and IDs. He mentioned again that there would be a slight delay in getting them a second car, apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. Olivia reminded him that she wasn't supposed to drive for another few weeks anyway. Stafford seemed thoroughly relieved at that, as though he feared he'd get in some sort of trouble for not having a car ready for her. He handed over keys to their new house as well as an entire file box full of papers, triple checking that the documents were in their names while he explained it held all the credentials they might need to set up a new existence – tax forms, bank statements, former addresses, mortgage paperwork._

_Elliot was thumbing through it, following Stafford's directive that he check to see if anything was missing that he could think of off the top of his head. While Elliot examined the contents, Olivia looked up at Stafford._

_"How long are we supposed to have been married?" It was something she figured she ought to know; something someone might ask her._

_"How long have you been married? Just use your real anniversary. It's usually easier to keep those details original so you don't get them mixed up."_

_Elliot looked up from the box. "Uh-"_

_Stafford looked between the two dumbstruck people before him. "Is there a problem?"_

_Olivia cleared her throat. "We're not married." Glancing at her wedding ring, she corrected, "At least not until yesterday."_

_"Oh." Stafford looked slightly surprised, but he hid it well. "I thought I was placing a married couple."_

_Elliot spoke up finally, setting the lid back on the box. "We wanted to be relocated together."_

_"Ah, ok." He pulled out a notepad and wrote something on it. "Which reminds me, I need to get you a marriage license." He looked up at them. "How long do you want to have been married?"_

_With her partner's wide, questioning eyes on her, Olivia knew she needed to decide. Unfortunately, she didn't have a fucking clue what to say. "Um-"_

_When Elliot interrupted, Olivia silently panicked, terrified he was going to say he wanted to use his real anniversary. "We've known each other for fourteen years, so we could use that." He glanced at Olivia and shrugged._

_Olivia nodded, thankful that he'd suggested something besides the day he'd married Kathy. "Yeah, that's fine."_

_Stafford waited a beat and then cut in. "Any particular day fourteen years ago?" When his question was answered with matching blank stares, he answered himself. "My daughter's fourteen. You got married on her birthday." _

_They went over everything else that seemed possibly relevant to their new lives. Stafford covered Ben's career history so they'd know what to say if someone asked where he'd been stationed previously. He discussed Abby's teaching career as well. He explained that everything was set to be delivered to the house in a moving van, including the best fitting clothing he'd been able to rustle up between Friday night and Saturday morning. If anything was missing or unsatisfactory, he swore he would remedy the problem as soon as he could once they brought it to his attention. Olivia scoffed at the idea that someone in her situation would balk at the type of furniture they'd been provided, but Stafford laughed and assured her that it had happened. _

_It appeared the informational part of the meeting was winding down, Stafford sighing and running his finger down a checklist before him. He'd been talking for the better part of the ninety minutes they'd been there; it seemed hard to imagine there was anything left for him to touch on._

_But he held up his index finger as he muttered, "Oh, yeah, nearly forgot." He stood up to fish in the pocket of his slightly too tight pants and then flopped back into his chair as though the movement had been exhausting. "Your fridge is going to be empty. We normally stock something for you, but we couldn't get to the house since it's on the base and it would raise a lot of questions we'd rather weren't asked." He reached over the desk, offering a small plastic card to Elliot. "It's a gift card for the supermarket. You can pick up whatever you need."_

_As Elliot mimicked Stafford's actions to fit the card in his own tight pants, Olivia allowed the idea of shopping with her partner to cross her mind. They'd eaten thousands of meals together, but somehow shopping for their groceries seemed considerably more intimate. She shook her head at herself, wondering how grocery shopping seemed more intimate than tonsil hockey. And yet somehow, it did. It was decidedly more thought out than an unplanned, hormone-induced hook up._

_Elliot noticing her shaking her head and he reached toward his pocket. "Did you want to hold the card?" _

_Smirking over the idea that he actually thought she'd care about who got to hold the gift card, she shook her head again. Elliot was clearly not thinking about the previous night's activities. The man was entirely in the present. Last night was over, gone, forgotten._

_Stafford cleared his throat, calling their attention back to him. His absentmindedness disappeared as he withdrew two business cards from his shirt pocket, giving one to each of them. Any triviality regarding food shopping was gone; the man was suddenly dead serious. "You need to learn those numbers. Don't count on them to be in your phones; you may not have your phones when you need them."_

_Olivia looked over the piece of paper in her hand, seeing that Doug Stafford had suddenly become her insurance agent. She wasn't going to be calling him to discuss a government-sponsored trip to Ethan Allen. If she needed to call him, it would be an emergency. Her heart raced at the idea alone, fearing the possibility of a day where she might bump into the Simonovichs._

_"Now, you can call me anytime, I'll help you with anything I can. If you want to change jobs, move, get divorced, whatever, contact me, I'll take care of it. Don't go and do something and then come to me after the fact." He leaned forward, holding Olivia's eyes and then Elliot's as he spoke. "I don't know your real names or where you're from or anything about this case. I can get the information if I need to, but it's easier and safer if I don't know until I have to. If you recognize someone, if someone knows your names, get the hell out. It doesn't matter how crazy you might look, even if it's an old friend – just get the hell away from them. Call me when it's safe. If you have to leave the area, whatever, I'm your contact. Don't call the police. Don't call the FBI. Don't look up Witness Relocation in the phone book. Call me."_

_Swallowing hard, Olivia nodded. She could see Elliot doing the same out of the corner of her eye. Stafford didn't need to elaborate. They both understood what he was saying. But Stafford, who didn't realize they were cops and had any grasp of the weight of his words, continued to drill the point home._

_"I'm dead serious. If you run into your best childhood friend, if you bump into your mom walking down the street, if you see the guy who used to deliver your pizza, don't talk to them. Don't acknowledge them. Don't stand still. Get away, get to safety, then call me. And whatever the fuck you do, please don't go on Facebook and try to find your old friends. Make some new ones, ok?"_

_Olivia continued to nod. "Ok."_

_"Yeah, we got it." Elliot's whole body was tense, his jaw clenched, his fists tight, revealing to Olivia exactly how upsetting the concept was to him._

_Upsetting or not, though, Olivia knew it had to be considered. They weren't running off to California to play house for the hell of it. They were in trouble, both of them, and there was a price on each of their heads. They might well face the day when they were running for their lives without the chance to stop and think._

_Stafford kept staring at them, seeming to verify that they were receiving the information with an appropriate amount of sobriety. Satisfied, he stood up and reached out to shake their hands. "Good luck. I'm always here if you need me, but I hope you never do."_

_Tucking his business card in her back pocket, Olivia accepted his handshake. She realized that he was turning them loose. They were on their own. He'd be there if there was an emergency, but short of that, they were alone in their new lives. _

_Benjamin and Abigail Reilly. For better or worse._

_After loading the file box of their personal papers into the back seat, rather than offering her the chance to drive again, Elliot opened the passenger door for her and held out his hand to help her. She looked at him with a curious expression, wondering what he was thinking._

_He shrugged one shoulder and let his hand fall back to his side when he realized she wasn't going to take it. "You said you still can't drive. I know you were in the hospital, but sometimes I forget you're sick."_

_The look on his face said a lot. He was nervous, probably scared out of his mind at the idea of having to take care of her all the time. She reached out, putting her hand on his arm. "I'll be ok. You don't have to worry about me. Hopefully the changes Kellerman made will keep me from getting sick for a while."_

_He worried his bottom lip, holding her eyes as he tried to convey something he was having trouble saying. _

_The silence stretched on._

_Finally, Olivia cracked a smile and tried to snap him out of wherever his mind had gone. "So I guess you don't have any restrictions on driving, huh?" It was a ridiculous statement because she already knew the answer. He'd driven the previous night. He'd driven her to the doctor two days earlier. But it was something to say, something to break the tension._

_But then her own words sank in. He had had driving restrictions; they just weren't as long. But he'd had them. Because he'd had surgery to remove a kidney, a kidney that he'd donated to her._

_For a moment, her knees were weak as the concept actually started to sink in. He'd volunteered to have major surgery so he could give her one of his organs. Jesus fucking Christ, she thought, there was no fucking sense of responsibility in the world that would drive someone to do something like that. At least, not that she could understand. He'd wanted to save her. He'd wanted so very badly to save her that he'd done something dangerous. He'd done stupid shit for the same reason in the past, but still, surgery was… Unavoidable. He'd done something to save her because there hadn't been anyone else who could help her. She had a half-brother who probably wouldn't have been a match, let alone willing to donate a kidney. Elliot was really the only friend she had. He'd done what he had to because he hadn't had any other choice. If he hadn't given her a kidney, she would have died. It was a sense of responsibility, she knew; a sense of responsibility she couldn't understand because the one person she would have felt that level of responsibility to had an entire family of people who would have beat her to the punch._

_She felt the tears springing to her eyes and she didn't want him to see them. He'd misinterpret them. He'd think he'd done something wrong. Hell, she'd told him as much when she'd thrown him out of her hospital room. She finally understood that regardless of his misguided reasons, regardless of the fact that he didn't love her, he'd saved her life. She owed him that much._

_Wanting to keep him from seeing her crying, she tightened her hand around his bicep. Then she tugged gently, knowing from the look on his face that it wouldn't take much of an invitation. He loved protecting people. He was always looking for an excuse._

_She was absolutely right. That light pull was all the permission he needed. He stepped forward, his arms moving up, wrapping around her, squeezing her tight, pressing her body into his. His head dropped down, his chin tucking over her shoulder. Olivia's hand had fallen from his arm, both of her arms moving to encircle his waist, returning every bit of the pressure, unable to stop herself from hissing when his arms pressed against the bruised area on her back._

_His arms let up immediately, his hands moving to her elbows as he pulled back. "Sorry."_

_Shaking her head, she smiled and tugged on his waist where her arms were still locked. "No, it's ok." She leaned forward, expecting him to meet her halfway. "Just softer."_

_He smiled too, his eyes narrowing even as he moved toward her again, as he tried to process the new information. It was ok to hug her. She'd just said as much, but his hold was still tentative._

_Too tentative. She couldn't feel his arms around her at all. She turned her face into his neck, letting her lips brush his skin. "Not that soft."_

_And then his hold tightened enough that she could feel the circle of warmth surrounding her. _

_They'd agreed to do this together. They would just have to figure out a way to do it without letting the fantasy get too real. And while she knew Elliot, with a real wife and family, wouldn't have any trouble separating the two concepts, she feared it would be much harder for her. Elliot embodied everything she thought of when she imagined what a husband was. To her, he was the perfect husband. _

_Unfortunately, he wasn't hers to keep. She would just have to keep reminding herself of that._


	42. Chapter 42

Part Forty-Two

_After_

_ The GPS attached to the dashboard estimated it would take approximately thirty minutes to cover the twenty-five miles to Camp Pendleton. If she were driving, Olivia was relatively certain she could halve that time. But she wasn't really in that big of a hurry. When they got to their new house, there was going to be a lot of work, a lot of stress, a lot of worry. It wasn't that the situation didn't exist while they were in transit to their new lives; it was that nothing at all seemed to exist._

_ And as soon as they pulled into their new driveway, that was all going to change._

_ The ride had been quiet, the enormity of their situation weighing heavily on their minds. Olivia knew Elliot was considering his new job, probably trying to guess what the hell he'd be doing full time. She could sense his apprehension and she understood it – liking something when he was eighteen wasn't the same as liking it in his late forties. While Olivia's new old career wasn't too much of a worry, the rest of her new life was. She'd have to get to know a new doctor and try to straighten out the mess of her health. She'd also have to adjust to life on a military base and the fact was, she didn't have one god damned clue what that would be like._

_ About ten minutes into the drive, Olivia spied a shopping mall off to their right. Glancing at Elliot, she smiled. "Stop here."_

_ He looked suspiciously between her and the mall. "We already have to get groceries. Is the mall really necessary?"_

_ Olivia nodded. "I don't know about you, but I'd like some underwear that actually fits."_

_ Elliot switched on the turn signal. "God only knows what Stafford found for us."_

_ As he pulled into a parking space, Olivia allowed herself to gloat. "Thought so."_

_ If nothing else, their little shopping spree allowed them practice in signing their new names. Olivia headed into the first department store she saw and grabbed a couple pairs of jeans and a few tee-shirts. Elliot stayed with her during that and she accompanied him while he did the same in the men's department. To preserve some modicum of dignity though, she suggested they split up for a few minutes after that so she could buy herself some bras and panties without Elliot standing there. Sure he'd seen plenty of her already, but she thought there were some things she wanted to keep private._

_ After they finished buying their clothes, Elliot drove across the shopping center to the grocery store. Shopping for food was more complicated. Olivia had never lived with anyone, not even a college roommate, so the concept of sharing food was new. And although Elliot had never lived alone, he freely admitted he'd rarely set foot in the supermarket. Olivia watched him grab a giant bag of cheese curls from the sale display by the front door, grumbling about how they should have gotten breakfast. As soon as he turned away, she put them back on the shelf. She was the one who was going to be spending most of her days in the house alone. The last thing she needed was a family-sized bag of fried cheese. She replaced it with a smaller bag of fat-free pretzels._

_ The pattern continued as they perused the aisles. Elliot selected mostly deep fried things, topped with cheese if it was an option and Olivia would put them back. She grabbed a lot of fruit and vegetables, reminding herself that she needed to do her best to stay healthy and take care of that kidney. Elliot stood silently as she put her selections in the cart, but she saw the way he was staring curiously._

_ As they moved out of that area of the store, Elliot turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "How come when I put things in the basket they disappear, but when you pick something up it stays there."_

_ Olivia grinned. "Maybe because I make better choices."_

_ Elliot stopped pushing the cart as they approached the meat freezers. He turned to her. "Do you know how to cook?"_

_ Her grin faded. "You've seen my fridge."_

_ "Yeah, so, frozen dinners?"_

_ "Unless you know how to cook." She glanced at him hopefully, though some part of her knew better._

_ "Frozen dinners it is."_

_ When they arrived in the frozen foods aisle, though, rather than haphazardly throwing stuff in the cart, Elliot was carefully looking over everything. He'd ponder something, pick up two and then put one back. Then she'd pick up whatever he decided on and check the sodium content, vetoing several of the dishes for the sake of her kidney and picking something healthier. But rather than joking about it as he had earlier, he put back the things she'd chosen. After he'd done it several times, she had to ask._

_ "What the hell, El-Ben?" She blushed as she caught herself. Too embarrassed to face him just then, she reached into a freezer to grab a handful of Lean Cuisine meals. "Why are you being an ass? I'm on a low-sodium diet for my kidney."_

_ He stared at her dumbstruck. "Shit, I forgot." He looked back and forth between her and the things in his hands he'd been trying to put back. "All the healthy stuff is really expensive. It's the end of June. School is out. You're not going to be getting a paycheck any time soon." He looked down, his own embarrassment evident in the way he refused to look at her. "My check isn't going to go far. We've got a mortgage to pay and only one income. Aren't there any healthy ones that aren't designer?"_

_ The idea had never occurred to her. At least back in New York, she'd been able to support herself, despite the frightening medical bills she'd accrued. She'd had enough money to take care of herself; she'd had savings and disability when she hadn't been working. She hadn't even considered the fact that she was suddenly flat broke and unable to work. Anything she needed was going to have to come from Elliot._

_ She'd have to check with him before she bought herself tampons._

_ Quietly, she eyed the expensive, organic produce she'd put in the cart thinking her own taste superior to Elliot's sale rack choices. But he understood how to stretch a dollar, something she'd never had to do. "Maybe I can get a job, work from home or something."_

_ "Don't be ridiculous." He pushed the cart forward, finding something on sale that proclaimed to be healthy and stacking those entrees in the basket._

_ She grabbed at the bag of apples she'd picked up. "You know, I don't really need these. I'm not that big a fan of them anyway."_

_ Elliot grabbed her hand, forcing her to drop them. "You need healthy food to keep you from getting sick again. I can afford your food. I'll just have to scrimp on mine."_

_ He might as well have slapped her. _

_ Never in her life had she ever wanted, expected, planned, or accepted a man supporting her financially. _

_ Fuck, if it meant she had to take the money he'd be working hard to earn, she didn't need to eat a damn thing. _

_ She picked up some of her frozen dinners to put them back. "I need to watch what I'm eating anyway. I can't run like I used to. Have to keep my girlish figure, you know." She tried to smile, hating the way she felt inside. It was true, she had put on some weight; she was well aware of it with having to weigh herself every day to ensure she wasn't retaining fluid. She had strict restrictions about everything she ate, as well as on her activities. No driving, no lifting, no sports, no anything that she'd always been able to do without a second thought. _

_ And now, she couldn't work, had no money except whatever the government had felt she needed, and was reliant on Elliot's paycheck to survive. There wasn't even a question left in her mind about what a horrible mistake going in the program together had been. If she'd gone in alone, they would have had to support her and she could have argued her way into enough money to buy whatever expensive food she wanted. As frightening and lonely as relocation would have been on her own, at least she'd have had her dignity._

_ She suddenly remembered Stafford's offer to help with anything they needed. He'd said to call if they wanted to move or change jobs or get divorced. The idea resonated in her head as she trailed along behind Elliot, watching him choose the knock-off Cheerios and store brand milk. She watched as he thought better of the milk after a quick glance at her, putting back the whole milk and selecting non-fat instead. She watched as he grabbed several loaves of the bread that were buy-one-get-one, muttering about how they could freeze it._

_ It wasn't fair. Not to either of them. He shouldn't have had to give up his wife and children and career because she'd decided to testify. He shouldn't have had to jeopardize his own health to save her life. He shouldn't have to be facing being an active-duty Marine at forty-eight and giving up his life-long career in the NYPD to make sure she went to the doctor when she got sick. He shouldn't have to buy slightly outdated groceries so there'd be enough money for her special diet._

_ Biting back the crushing emotion that came with her decision, she knew she had to call Stafford. She'd only been married a day. It was already time to get divorced._

_ Rather than mentioning her silence, Elliot took full advantage of her unconditional acquiescence. He loaded the cart full of everything they could possibly need provided it came in a cheap variety. He wouldn't even let her push the cart once the items started to pile up, simply pushing her hands from the handle and declaring that he had it. She felt like she belonged in the child seat, helpless and useless, just along for the ride while the grown up took care of the important stuff._

_ As Elliot stacked no-frills toilet paper and paper towels in the cart, Olivia quietly grabbed a cheap box of tampons, hoping like hell he wouldn't tell her she couldn't have them._

_ And in keeping with her already phenomenally wonderful luck, Elliot lifted the box out of the cart and offered it to her._

_ She stood there, refusing to take it. "I'm going to need them. It's not really something we can cut back on."_

_ "These aren't your brand."_

_ She wanted to die that he even knew that. She wanted him to have the sense to be embarrassed for knowing that. Apparently fourteen years of looking through her drawers for pens or gum or whatever had resulted in him knowing which fucking brand of feminine hygiene products she preferred._

_ "They're fine. They're fucking tampons. They don't need to be high end." Honestly, if it came down to it, she'd rather have the organic veggies than the tampons in the pretty wrappers. She just wished he'd let her make that call on her own rather than making her feeling like a spoiled child having a tantrum._

_ "Get the ones you normally get." His eyes were hard and angry and it made her wonder if he was perhaps sublimating his mortification over the fact that they were having a discussion regarding her tampons into anger. It wouldn't surprise her in the least._

_ Simply because she didn't want to stand there and face the man who was about to start yelling at her, she took the box from his hands and thrust them back on the shelf. "I'll pick them up next week."_

_ He shook his head as he stepped around her, selecting the pink box she usually bought and throwing it in cart. "Damn it, why do you have to make everything such a big fucking deal?" With the way he was glaring at her, she fully expected that he was about to ground her for being mouthy._

_ Looking down she sucked in a breath, willing herself not to cry as she whispered, "I'm sorry." And she was, just not over what he would assume her apology was over._

_ "Come on, we're almost done." He started walking again, grabbing a tube of cinnamon-flavored toothpaste off the next shelf. "We can share toothpaste, right?"_

_ "I don't like cinnamon."_

_ He glanced at her, at the toothpaste, and then at the shelf. "It's on sale."_

_ "But I don't like it." The tiny travel-sized tube she'd received in Tulsa wasn't going to last too long. And she figured toothpaste wasn't really optional._

_ He stared at her for a long, silent moment, before he finally put the cheap option back on the shelf. He grabbed at the largest size tube available in a shiny, glitter covered box. "This is eight bucks. That better? Must be if it costs more, right?" Throwing the toothpaste in the cart, he stormed forward._

_ Furious and unable to take it one more second, she chased after him, grabbing the toothpaste out of the cart. "Fuck you, ok! Just fucking fuck you!"_

_ He stopped and stared at her, as though her anger and tears were somehow unexpected. "What-"_

_ She threw it at him, not caring that it bounced off his chest and right back into the cart. "Just leave me the fuck alone! I don't want you to buy my food and pick out my fucking tampons. I'm a fucking grown up! I don't want your damn money. Fuck off!"_

_ Elliot's face colored red as the woman stocking the shelves turned to look at them. He swallowed hard and Olivia watched as he smoothly shifted into cop mode. "Why don't you calm down, Abby? Just take a deep breath and think for a minute."_

_ "Augh!" She shrieked at him, at his attitude, at the way he really thought she was somehow wrong even though he was, as usual, the asshole. "Fuck you, Benjamin!"_

_ She didn't wait to see how he was going to explain himself to the small crowd of onlookers. She didn't wait to see what he was going to say to her. She shook her head at him. "This was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake." And then she took off, not caring that she wasn't supposed to run, not caring that she had nowhere to go._


	43. Chapter 43

Part Forty-Three

_After_

_ Not only was running forbidden due to her recent surgery, but it was also a really bad idea when she was out of shape. Of course, that only occurred to her when she doubled over in the parking lot, her hands on her knees, huffing and puffing like she'd run a damn marathon. After several long, humbling minutes, she stood and walked the rest of the way to the Jeep. She wiped her sweaty face on her sleeve and sat down on the parking barrier, feeling more like an ass than she had in the store. But at least Elliot wasn't there demanding she sit on his lap rather than the cement._

_ And that was worth something._

_ At the very least, she wasn't still winded when Elliot appeared twenty minutes later, pushing the cart full of bags in front of him. He looked at her for only a second before he opened the back of the Jeep and started loading in the groceries. She knew better than to offer to help. He'd only shoo her away like the annoying insect he apparently thought she was. Instead she climbed into her seat and slammed the door to make sure he knew he wasn't off the hook._

_ Elliot finished with the bags, returned the cart, and finally climbed into the seat beside her. He put the key in the ignition, but he didn't turn it. He just sat there, staring at the dashboard before him. After an eternity, he turned to look at her. "We're going to have to get used to this kind of thing – living together and shopping together and just being together all the time. I'm sure it's going to take some time to adjust."_

_ Still furious, Olivia bit back her anger. She had to live with the man. Until Stafford found her somewhere new at least. "Yeah, fine. Maybe we can look at what Stafford gave us, the bank statements and shit, figure out some kind of budget."_

_ Elliot nodded, starting the engine and backing out of the space. "We'll have to do something because I'm sure as hell not going to have you running out of supermarkets like that."_

_ Olivia had never been so sure that she was about to murder someone. She wanted to rip his fucking spine out. Glaring at him, she hissed back, "And I'm sure as hell not going to have you deciding what kind of fucking tampons I buy. I'm not that sick." She turned to look out the windshield, too angry to even look at him. "And if I were, you're the last person I'd ask for help."_

_ He snorted as though her words were somehow humorous. "Yeah, I guess so. You already got everything you could from me."_

_ She wanted to get out of the Jeep regardless of the fact that they were barreling down the highway. Anywhere, even smeared across a state highway would be an improvement over being next to Elliot Stabler. "I didn't ask you for anything. I didn't want anything from you. And you know damn well that I wouldn't have accepted your damn kidney if I'd had the opportunity to speak for myself."_

_ He shook his head at her, glancing over to snarl after he changed lanes. "Well you weren't able to speak for yourself, thankfully, or the fucking doctors wouldn't have wanted to save you."_

_ Not at all convinced slapping him wouldn't make her feel a hell of a lot better, she toyed with the idea. "If I'm so fucking awful, why the fuck did you bully Simon into something you knew I wouldn't have wanted?"_

_ His voice was softer, his face stubbornly locked on the road. "I never said you were awful." As he pulled to a stop at a red light, he turned to look at her. His demeanor was completely different, the topic of conversation probably reminding him of how serious the situation had been. He reached out, putting his hand over hers. "I bullied Simon because I wanted you to live."_

_ Still pissed, Olivia snatched her hand out from under his and folded her arms across her chest. "Fuck you, Elliot."_

_ He pulled his hand back, grabbing onto the steering wheel and squeezing until his hand turned white. "I wanted you to live. I just didn't know you'd be such a bitch about it or I might have changed my mind."_

_ She wanted to cry. No, she hadn't wanted to take his kidney. She hadn't wanted to need it. She didn't want to be dependent on him. But she didn't want him to be sorry for saving her either. Rather than bursting out in tears which she suspected would force him to try to comfort her, she stared out the window and wondered how long Stafford would take to set her up in a new life. It couldn't possibly be too long, not if he'd gotten the two of them set up in two days._

_ Elliot was silent for a long time, finally breaking the silence with a soft, tentative suggestion. "Maybe we just shouldn't talk for a while."_

_ She bit her lip. Maybe they just shouldn't talk ever._

_ The rest of the trip passed in silence. It was only about ten minutes before she saw the chain link fence, standing about fifteen feet high and topped with barbed wire. She knew it was the base, though the forbidding fencing reminded her far more of a prison. Blaming that on the fact that she'd had far more experience with prisons, and trying not to let the thought of Sealview creep into her mind, Olivia didn't want think of the base as a prison of sorts for her. Rather, she tried not to think of it as one, though she knew it would be._

_ Her whole life was a prison anymore. Her name, her home, her career, her husband, hell even her borrowed kidney – they were all new walls and barriers and constraints. Her life was now one big rule she had to follow under penalty of death. If that wasn't prison, she didn't know what was. It wasn't fair, and though she was long old enough to know life wasn't fair, Olivia's situation seemed worse than most. She wasn't a criminal, far from it; in fact, she was the one trying to put the criminals away. So why was she the one getting locked up? In that moment of realization, she finally understood why witnesses refused relocation, why so many opted to take their chances with staying put._

_ As the miles rolled on with no break whatsoever in the fence, she turned to Elliot, forgetting in her apprehension that they weren't speaking. "How fucking big is this place?" She'd never thought about it, but she'd always somehow thought that military bases were somewhat small._

_ Elliot looked at her, sizing up the change in her mood from the last time she'd spoken, a hint of a smile eventually curling his lips. "Big."_

_ "Define 'big.'"_

_ "Two hundred square miles."_

_ Her eyes went wide. Two hundred square miles wasn't a concept she could quite grasp. "Wow. That's big."_

_ "Exactly." Elliot chuckled and turned his attention back to the road, letting a more comfortable silence fill the air. _

_ Glancing between him and the imposing fence, she tried to imagine what life was going to be like for them, but she came up with nothing. She didn't have the first fucking clue what to guess. She wished Elliot would tell her what to expect. She wished she didn't feel too stupid to ask him. But then she remembered the cocky way he'd overridden her decision making authority simply because he had a full time job. She didn't want his help. She didn't need it either. She'd figure it out along the way without his input._

_ Elliot turned off the freeway and joined a small line of cars waiting for passage through the front gate of the base. While he busied himself getting his ID out of his wallet and some papers from the box in the backseat, Olivia stared resolutely out the windshield. The metal gates, the guard station, even the signs – they all seemed threatening to her. Her hand was gripping the handle of her door and it took all of her control not to let herself out and make a run for it._

_ Just where the hell she'd be running to, well, that was what stopped her._

_ She recognized that she was having a panic attack by the time Elliot was making pleasant chatter with the guard. Her palms were sweating, her heart was racing, she couldn't hear anything besides the rush of blood in her ears. She couldn't breathe. She knew it was just in her head, but at the same time, she was sure she was going to suffocate._

_ She yelped and jumped when his hand made contact with her forearm. _

_ "Abby? You ok?" Elliot looked nervous, though whether it was due to the man peering through the window or her behavior was anyone's guess._

_ She was shaking when she nodded. No, she wasn't fucking ok, and that had to be abundantly clear to the man, but he'd called her Abby, reminding her that it was probably not the time to tell him as much._

_ "Do you have your ID?"_

_ She looked at him, honestly unsure as to the answer. She wasn't really sure what he'd asked her. _

_ "It's probably in your bag." His eyes held hers, worry and concern emerging as he tried to guide her to the right answer without drawing attention to the fact that she was temporarily insane._

_ Her eyes followed his as they darted to the black knapsack at her feet. Bag. Her bag. He wanted something in her bag. She forced herself to let go of the death grip she had on her armrest long enough to snag the bag and lift it onto the seat between them._

_ He unzipped the bag and found her pink wallet in no time, opening it up and pulling out her license while making a joke about her being so eager to redecorate their new house. The young man appreciated the comment as he confirmed that Olivia's face matched Abby's picture. He said his wife was the same way, barely able to wait for permission before she painted their bedroom._

_ Olivia stared at the man as she calmed down, her mind sticking on the idea that she needed permission from the government to paint her own house. She was able to force a smile by the time her license was passed back to her and she listened as the man gave Elliot directions, indicating that their development was only a few miles from the gate._

_ It would only be a few minutes before they were home, the kid promised._

_ Elliot thanked him and drove through the gate as it opened. "Jesus, Olivia, what the fuck was that?"_

_ Olivia could hear the sound of the gate closing behind the truck and she wanted to scream, her mind once again drawn to the idea of making a run for it. But where could she go? She was trapped. Her mind's eye conjured up an image of Lowell Harris, the way he'd taunted her when he'd known she couldn't escape. _

_ And then Elliot's hand was on her arm again, gently squeezing it. "Do you want to go to the house or do you need to go to the hospital?"_

_ She glanced at him quickly, her eyes drawn to where his warm hand rested on her arm. He was worried. She didn't want to worry him, not even if he was an asshole. She faked another smile, knowing he'd see right through it despite her best attempts. She'd never told him what had happened, not about Harris, not about the PTSD she'd suffered. It would therefore be impossible to explain that she strongly suspected she was about to relapse._

_ Blinking against the tears, she shrugged at her partner, her husband. "Home. I want to go home."_

_ He nodded at her and offered a reassuring smile. "Home it is."_

_ She stared unseeing out the window and didn't bother mentioning that he'd missed the point._


	44. Chapter 44

Part Forty-Four  
_After_

_They drove into their perfectly normal development, past a perfectly normal community center, past the perfectly normal swimming pool, past the perfectly normal dog park with perfectly normal dogs playing inside with their perfectly normal owners. The street was lined with perfectly normal houses, but even so, when Elliot turned left into the driveway of one, she couldn't believe that it was the right place. It was just too normal. There wasn't a bit of barbed wire in sight._

_She turned to him, seeing him eyeing the place. "Is this it?"_

_He nodded, shrugging at her with a smile. "Home sweet home."_

_It wasn't that she didn't believe him; it was that she really had expected something along the lines of communal barracks. Reaching for the paperwork, she scanned the details on their house. Three bedroom, two bathroom, two-story. She glanced at the brass house number affixed above the mailbox, 4217, and compared it with the sheet in her hand. It took her several minutes of staring before she realized that the house wasn't as big as she'd initially thought – in fact, it wasn't until the neighbors came out onto the porch to wave that she figured out the house was a duplex._

_Still, with three bedrooms it had plenty of space. Her entire apartment would probably fit in the living room. The best thing about it, she decided, was that with two floors, she would definitely be able to avoid Elliot until Stafford came through with a new place for her._

_Elliot reached for the door handle. "Ready?"_

_"As I'll ever be." She opened her door and climbed out of the Jeep, walking around to the front to stand next to Elliot as he looked for the keys. A movement off to the left caught her attention and she turned in time to see curtains on the next house moving. She peered over her shoulder and found the neighbors across the street had paused in their game of fetch with their dog to look at her and Elliot as well. "Jesus, why is everyone staring at us?" Feeling discomforted by the amount of attention they were receiving, Olivia waved politely at the couple from the other side of the duplex._

_Elliot looked around, waving at the family across the street before turning back to her. "Because bases are small towns. And we're the most interesting thing around."_

_Olivia looked at him, faking the loving smile of a wife. "Except they don't know that. They think we're a normal, boring couple."_

_Laughing, Elliot gestured forward and offered her the keys. "We're still the most interesting thing to happen in a while." His hand fell on the small of her back as they climbed the front steps; it was an ingrained, comfortable movement. And in keeping with the characters too, which meant Olivia had no choice but to not shove him away. _

_As she put the key in the lock, she muttered, "I've never had a house before."_

_His hand moved to her shoulder, gently squeezing it. "I'd carry you in, but I did that at our last house and it didn't turn out too well."_

_They took a few minutes to explore, starting out together, but finally wandering apart when they reached the second floor. It was overwhelming when she thought about having a house, about living with Elliot in a house for more than an undefined undercover op that could end at any time. She pushed the idea to the back of her head, opting instead to examine the master bedroom and contemplate whether or not beige carpeting was a good idea. She was staring blankly out the window over the driveway when Elliot leaned in the doorway._

_"I turned on the fridge and we've got a shitload of frozen food melting in the car, so we should probably get that, huh?" He was already halfway down the stairs by the time she turned around._

_The neighbors had moved on to other things, leaving Olivia to trail behind him in relative privacy. Mindful of her restriction on heaving lifting that was supposed to continue for six months, she carried one bag in each hand as opposed to Elliot who grabbed half a dozen bags in each hand. She smiled ruefully, thinking of how much easier simple things like grocery shopping and carrying the laundry to the washer would be if she had muscles the size of Elliot's. She laughed to herself, remembering his claim of carrying her and comparing what had likely been an easy task for him with the way she pathetically struggled to do a single chin-up._

_Knowing it would take him maybe two trips to empty out the Jeep, Olivia stayed in the kitchen and started putting away the food. She tackled the frozen stuff first, wondering if it had been out of the freezer too long. Normally it wouldn't have bothered her too much, but with her health in its current state, she knew she had to be more careful than ever._

_She'd just finished with the frozen foods and had moved on to the milk and eggs when Elliot came in with the last of the bags. Motioning at the cereal and chips lined up on the counter, she glanced at him. "I don't know where you want to put that stuff."_

_"Something wrong with the pantry?" He opened the door to his left, into the small closet that Olivia hadn't even noticed._

_"We have a pantry?" Feeling like an idiot, she looked down once Elliot nodded. _

_"I think the movers are here." He looked behind him, toward the front door. "Unless someone else on the block is moving."_

_"Shit, we're going to have to tell them where to put stuff." She'd forgotten about facing men carting around furniture awaiting directions. _

_"This is going to be fun." He sighed and walked away. Olivia hurried through the rest of the bags, pulling out lunch meat and anything else that needed refrigeration. The rest of it could wait._

_Conveniently, Stafford, or his minions, had been kind enough to label the boxes. Names like 'kitchen' and 'master bedroom' were easy enough to deal with. It was the actual furniture that was more complicated, Olivia realized that while standing there next to two men who were holding a couch and asking her where to put it. There was a living room and a den. She had no idea if she was looking at the "good" couch or if it was the one to put in front of the TV, doomed to stains from food. Strong as he was, Elliot wouldn't be able to lift a couch by himself and she wasn't going to be able to help him, therefore it seemed like an important decision to be making on the fly._

_Deciding she was going to hide until such complicated matters were dealt with, she pointed at the living room wall. "Over there is fine."_

_Because really, furniture placement was about the least of her problems._

_She headed for the bedroom. The pieces of the bed were leaning against one wall, the mattress and box spring against another. Elliot was helping the movers, either to hurry them up or to spare himself having to answer any questions. As soon as he brought a box into the room, Olivia dove for it. She busied herself with looking through it, trying to determine if any of the unfamiliar clothes inside would work for them. It only took her a minute to realize that she had no hangers and no dresser and therefore could do very little with the clothes._

_Following the mover with a box labeled 'office,' she found herself in the smallest of the bedrooms. He set the box down with a smile and headed out. Luckily, there was already a desk and chair inside, along with a dismantled computer. Thank god. Something she could do. Plugging in stuff was about as much as she was physically allowed to do. She set up the computer parts, then tackled the boxes while it was starting up. The contents made her laugh – it looked like Stafford had just ordered one of everything from the Staples catalog. With everything put into the drawers, she turned her attention back to the computer. It was brand new, staring at her, asking what she wanted to name it._

_Took her quite a bit longer than she figured it should have to come up with Reilly. At least that way, she figured, if the neighbors wifi picked up their computer, it wouldn't give anything away. She was proud of herself for having thought of it. She was even prouder when she remembered to set up a new email account under the name Abigail Reilly rather than logging into her old one. The first thing she did was to email Stafford, just to tell him that they were at the house and to give him her email. She decided against asking him about a divorce right away, thinking that being with Elliot might be better for the short term. At least, it had been nice to wake up from her nightmares to him rather than a terrifying darkness and utter lack of reassurance. If she was going to start having panic attacks and flashbacks again, she'd honestly rather be with Elliot than alone._

_Of course, she realized, if she wasn't with Elliot on a Marine base, she might not be having flashbacks at all. But she would be having the nightmares no matter where she was, and so, leaving and not having Elliot around to wake her up wasn't necessarily her best option._

_The possibility of a divorce would be her ace in the hole. If things with Elliot got too bad, if he didn't stop treating her like an unwelcome drain on his finances, if she got too sick, then she'd talk to Stafford. Comforted by the idea that her life was less of a prison so long as she had an escape route, she decided she'd go find Elliot._

_Time had slipped by faster than she'd realized. She hadn't even noticed when the moving truck pulled away. She only realized that hours had gone by because it was twilight and she wanted to turn on a lamp, except there wasn't one in the room._

_She found Elliot in the den, shirtless, dripping with sweat, and armed with a drill. She felt guilty, knowing he'd been working hard while she'd been checking out current events on CNN's website. But it wasn't like she had a choice. And she strongly suspected Elliot would be really pissed if she did something to jeopardize the kidney he'd risked his life to give her._

_He looked angry as he climbed the stepladder though. The drill sounded angry as it tore into the wall. After he drilled a few holes, he climbed down, picked up a metal frame of some sort and then climbed back up. Finally, he looked at her. "Can you fucking help me here?"_

_She rolled her eyes and walked over. "What do you want me to do?"_

_"Just hold this." He tapped the frame he was holding. _

_She had to stand on her toes to reach it. Unfortunately, she also had to stand only a few inches from Elliot's sweaty, bare chest, replete with rippling muscles. She groaned, telling herself that it wasn't right to be turned on by the man who was evidently still mad at her for not having appreciated him being an asshole. _

_Rather than continuing with his work, he looked down at her. "Come on, it's not that heavy."_

_She blushed fiercely, realizing that he'd heard her groan, uncertain if it was better or worse that he thought it was over the weight she was supporting. "I've got it." _

_"Never mind." He lifted it from her, stepping back down the ladder. "You won't be able to hold the TV anyway. I'll have to ask someone else to help." He set the frame and the drill down on the floor. "So where the hell have you been?"_

_She felt like an ass and for the first time in all the years she'd known him, she completely understood why his children regularly lied rather than having to face his wrath. "I set up the computer." Glancing up and seeing that he was entirely unimpressed, she felt the urge to defend herself. "I guess I lost track of time."_

_He snorted and shook his head. "I've put together half the furniture in the house after helping the movers carry it all in and you 'lost track of time?' Jesus fucking Christ, Oliv-" He stopped himself in the middle of his mistake._

_She watched as he crossed the room and reached for something on the kitchen counter. She recognized the red plaid cover of the binder, but she couldn't believe he'd have the balls to carry through on it. Not even when she saw him approaching with it in front of him._

_"Here. Maybe you can learn to do something useful."_

_She took the cookbook out of his hands just long enough to lift it over her head and hurl it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thump and fell to the floor. Elliot stared at it for a long time before he looked back, giving her the impression he was trying very hard to control his temper. If the way he was acting was him actually controlling his temper, though, she was afraid to see what he'd be like when he lost it. She'd thought she'd seen it plenty at work, but that certainly didn't seem to be the case._

_"What the hell was that for?" He looked confused, as though he really couldn't understand her problem with his behavior or his actions._

_Olivia narrowed her eyes and wished she had her gun on her, but then suddenly understood that it was probably a very good thing she didn't. "Do I look like Betty fucking Crocker to you?"_

_Shaking his head, he started to walk away. "No, she actually knew how to cook."_

_"You fucking son of a bitch!" Incensed, she grabbed the first thing she could reach, which was luckily only a pillow, and threw it at him. "You want me to do your laundry and ironing too?"_

_He shrugged and kept walking, bending down to pick up his shirt on the way out of the room. "Yeah, that would be nice." _

_She heard the door slam behind him, and then the sound of the Jeep starting up._


	45. Chapter 45

Part Forty-Five

_After_

_ The house was unfamiliar and as she wandered through the rooms, she realized most of the lamps either didn't have bulbs or were missing altogether. It was dark and creepy and it made her long for Elliot, even though she was well aware that she'd probably kill him the next time she saw him. She wasn't used to the sounds of the house. She wasn't used to the eerie quiet of suburbia either. The sound of the refrigerator's compressor cycling on nearly made her jump out of her skin._

_ Sitting there in the quiet, she heard the noise of someone on the porch, then the sharp rap of a knock. He'd forgotten the house key. But at least he'd fucking come back. The time alone in the house had assured her of one thing – she sure as shit didn't want to live there alone. _

_ Throwing open the door, she almost hugged him. "El-"_

_ Except it wasn't Elliot._

_ It was a confused couple, who glanced at one another and then smiled at her._

_ Clearing her throat, Olivia started to cover, fearing she'd just doomed them to another moving adventure. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was expecting my friend Ellen."_

_ "Just the neighborhood welcome wagon!" The woman lifted her hand, indicating a bucket filled with various cleaning supplies – spray cleaners, rags, plastic gloves. "It's a house-warming gift from the neighborhood."_

_ Olivia accepted it as gracefully as she could for someone who'd never in her life actually spoken with a neighbor._

_ "I'm Allyson. This is my husband Mark. We live next door." The woman nodded to the other side of the duplex. "It's so nice to meet you."_

_ It finally occurred to her to move back and allow them entrance. "I'm-" She shook her head, trying to laugh off her pause. "It's been a really long day! I'm Abby. My husband is Ben, but he, uh, went out to get some things." She wasn't actually sure the man was ever coming back. For all she knew, he was in Stafford's office at the moment, demanding a new life._

_ Allyson looked around, and it struck Olivia as strange since the woman lived in a house that was a mirror image. She wondered what the hell the woman was looking at._

_ Mark spoke up, seeming to explain for both of them. "It's weird seeing everything backwards."_

_ Olivia looked around, finding that with the notable exception of lights, the living room appeared to have been set up. The couch, the chairs, the tables – everything in the right place. She felt bad, thinking of how hard Elliot must have worked. No wonder he'd been annoyed._

_ Waving her hand toward the dining room, she tried to appear welcoming. "Light bulbs would be one of the things we forgot. The dining room has light though, if you want to come in."_

_ Allyson continued to look around curiously and Olivia nearly pointed out that it was rather strange, if not downright rude. But finally, Allyson spoke up and explained herself. "I don't hear any little feet. You don't have kids?" Mark elbowed her sharply and shot a glare at her._

_ Then he shrugged. "I'm sorry. Allyson thinks we're the only people on this base without kids."_

_ Olivia shook her head. "No, we don't have any kids." It was an easy statement for her to make; she wondered how hard it would be for Elliot to say the same. She fell silent as she thought about how every minute of the experience had to be excruciatingly painful for him. She couldn't blame him for the way he'd been acting. He was suffering the loss of his wife and kids every minute; she could hardly blame him for being so angry at her, especially when she probably looked like the most ungrateful bitch he'd ever met._

_ The man deserved an apology. And she was going to give it to him the first chance she got._

_ He deserved a thank you too. He'd saved her life, and despite her repeated words to him regarding it, she was grateful. She was touched that he was willing to give her a piece of himself, even if it had only been because she was pathetic. _

_ It was a good thing that Allyson appeared to be the type of person who could carry on an entire conversation without needing anyone else's input. She hadn't even noticed when Olivia completely zoned out on her. And Mark, who appeared a bit more observant and therefore might have noticed it, didn't say a word either. Olivia chastised herself for being rude. She had no one, no friends, no coworkers, besides Elliot. She needed to be friendly and accept what relationships were offered, at least until she had enough options that she could afford to be picky._

_ Allyson was going on and on, talking about the neighborhood book club, asking if Olivia would be interested in joining, then, without waiting for an answer, immediately moving on to discussing her part time job at the daycare center, which Olivia expected might go a long way toward explaining why she thought everyone had children besides her._

_ Mark interjected, possibly to allow his wife a chance to draw in a breath. "What do you do, Abby?"_

_ Another lengthy pause as Olivia bit back the urge to tell him she was a cop. "I'm a teacher."_

_ Mark shook his head. "You must love kids too." Judging from his tone, Olivia realized that Allyson wasn't necessarily preoccupied with other people's children. It sounded more like she wanted them and Mark didn't. _

_ She felt bad for Allyson, thinking the gregarious, talkative woman would probably be a great mom, but her attention shifted to the idea that she and Elliot would have to come up with a reason why they didn't have kids. They'd have to talk about it, to make sure they said the same thing if they were asked. She loathed even thinking about asking him what he wanted to tell people; she could only imagine the nightmare that the actual conversation would cause._

_ The conversation had shifted to Allyson's fear that Mark was about to be deployed because of some rumors circulating to the effect that a large number of troops were shipping out. Olivia's stomach knotted up at the thought. She hadn't thought about that possibility, that Elliot too could get sent overseas. Certainly Stafford's influence only extended so far; once Elliot was back on active duty, Olivia knew it was possible. The concept was so upsetting that she was about to excuse herself and ask her neighbors to leave. The only reason she didn't was that the dark, quiet house creeped her out and she wanted to spend as little time as possible there alone._

_ When Mark offered help with anything they needed, Olivia accepted the offer, deciding it might help make up for her earlier behavior._

_ "Oh, Mark, that would be great! Ben was trying to get the TV set up, but I just had surgery so I wasn't much help. Maybe you can help him with that tomorrow?"_

_ Allyson jumped in. "Mark would love to! I bet Ben's going to be grumpy until he can get his baseball."_

_ Olivia nodded. She had no idea if Elliot watched baseball. She knew he'd played high school football, he'd mentioned that a couple of times. Occasionally, he'd reference a game or a sports team, but she paid little attention to them and so rarely knew what sport he was talking about. It was worrisome, trying to imagine getting through countless conversations like this one, having no idea if Elliot preferred dramas to comedies or if he'd rather put on a horror movie than a hockey game. She'd always considered Elliot one of her closest friends but, though she was fairly sure they could read each other's minds half the time, she was becoming more and more aware that she knew very little about him. She knew Detective Stabler. She didn't know Elliot at all. And that made the whole situation seem a little more doomed._

_ The sound of the Jeep pulling into the driveway caught Allyson's attention and she smiled happily. "That must be Ben. I can't wait to meet him!" Olivia noticed that Mark seemed a bit less enthusiastic about meeting his neighbor, but she didn't read anything into it._

_ Olivia's heart pounded when she heard Elliot's footsteps on the porch. He'd gone storming out of the house rather than have a screaming match with her. God only knew what he was going to say when he walked in the door. She held her breath as the key turned in the lock, watching as the faces of her new and possibly short-lived friends turned toward the hallway._

_ "Abby, I'm home."_

_ She let out a heavy sigh of relief. Mark's eyes darted toward her, noticing what his wife hadn't, but he said nothing. Olivia stood up, too nervous to remain seated. "We're in here, Ben." She didn't know how the hell he'd known to call her Abby, but when Elliot rounded the corner, he faked surprise so convincingly she almost believed it._

_ "If I'd known we had company, I would have bought more pizza." He set the box down on the table and extended his hand to Allyson, then Mark. "Hi, I'm Ben Reilly."_

_ With a coy laugh and over the top batting of her eyelashes, Allyson shook Elliot's hand. "Hi, Ben."_

_ As Olivia rolled her eyes, she caught Mark doing the same._

_ "I'm Mark." He elbowed his wife until she dropped Elliot's hand. "This is my wife, Allyson."_

_ Olivia didn't have to fake the possessive irritation in her glare at Allyson, though she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge the reason behind it. "There won't be much to go around, but you're welcome to stay for dinner."_

_ Allyson's eyes, which hadn't left Elliot since he walked in, lit up, but Mark cut her off. "Thanks for the invite, but we've already eaten." He nodded at Olivia and then reached for Elliot's hand to shake it again. "It was great meeting you guys. Knock on my door anytime tomorrow if you want help with that TV."_

_ They ate their dinner quietly and although they were sitting across from one another, Olivia felt like she was eating alone. She wanted to apologize, but with the scowl on Elliot's face, she doubted he would be receptive. The constant arguing was wearing on her, as was the infection her body was still trying to fight, leaving her more tired than hungry. Rather than incur his anger by not eating the pizza he'd just bought when he was liable to yell at her for wasting the food when money was tight though, she tried to eat. She was just pushing half a slice around on her plate when he spoke softly._

_ "I didn't buy it so you could learn to cook for me." He swallowed loud enough for her to hear. "I thought maybe we could figure it out together."_

_ Thank god, an olive branch._

_ "I'm sorry I wasn't any help today." Her voice was just as soft and she felt a lump forming in her throat. Not at the fact that she had to apologize, but because she hated the helplessness inherent in her current condition._

_ He shook his head, refusing to accept her words. "No, it wasn't you. I had no right to talk to you like that." He put his pizza down and reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry, Liv. I'm really sorry."_

_ Tears sprang to her eyes, making her realize how very much she'd wanted to hear his apology even though she knew she was partially to blame. She needed confirmation that it was a bad mood or stress or something besides the fact that he resented her very existence. _

_ She nodded, squeezing hand back. "Thank you."_

_ "For what?" He looked genuinely confused._

_ It only made her feel guiltier to see that he really wasn't expecting to be thanked. "For saving my life."_

_ His eyes met hers and he slowly smiled. "Oh, that." He pulled his hand back and picked up his pizza, taking a big bite and talking around it. "You're welcome."_

_ With the air once again calm around them, Olivia felt comfortable making small talk. "The house is kind of creepy." Even though things were settled, she still wasn't hungry. She didn't want to get up from the table though. "Dark too."_

_ "Yeah, apparently Stafford forgot about lamps." Elliot shook his head, his eyes darting over to her plate. "You need to eat something."_

_ "I'm working on it." She didn't want it; she was kind of hoping Elliot would forget about it. "He forgot light bulbs too."_

_ "We'll get some tomorrow." _

_ They lapsed back into silence, and though it was comfortable, Olivia's mind turned to the uncomfortable silence that had surrounded her when Elliot had been out. She cleared her throat. "So, I was thinking. Maybe we should get a dog."_

_ Elliot looked up from his pizza with a frown. "No."_

_ "Why not?" She'd never had a pet, but she suspected that a giant husky next to her would go a long way toward making her feel safe when she was alone. Assuming it would help make Elliot happy, and thus more agreeable, she took a big bite of pizza._

_ "Because my last family pet wound up in the garbage disposal."_

_ Nearly gagging on the food in her mouth, Olivia forced herself to swallow. "How?"_

_ "How the hell should I know?" Elliot shrugged, taking another bite like the topic wasn't at all upsetting. "And hey, it was only a turtle."_

_ "That doesn't make me feel better." Quite certain she was about to be sick, she shoved her plate away from her. "What's in this anyway?" It looked like mushroom, but she'd never seen a turtle up close and so imagined turtle meat might resemble mushrooms._

_ "Turtle would have cost extra." Laughing, Elliot picked up her half eaten slice when he finished his own. "Besides, I said garbage disposal, not food processor."_

_ Not hungry in the least, Olivia quietly watched Elliot eating for a long time. "So, I was thinking. Maybe we should get a dog."_

_ Elliot looked up with a grin. "Should I uninstall the garbage disposal then?"_

_ "I'd appreciate it."_

_ He finally sat back, having eaten half the pizza, and met her eyes. "You're not talking one of those little frou-frou dogs, right? You mean like a shepherd or something?"_

_ Nodding, Olivia stood to take their plates to the kitchen. "I'm going to be here alone a lot without a car. It would make me feel safer."_

_ Elliot joined her in the kitchen, shoving the pizza box in the fridge. "Then I guess we're getting a dog."_


	46. Chapter 46

Part Forty-Six  
_After_

_While one of the three bedrooms had been converted to the office she'd set up, the other two bedrooms had been filled with appropriate furniture. Though she wasn't good with the heavy lifting, Olivia was able to help Elliot assemble the beds. She held the pieces as he screwed them together and found that, perhaps due to her mere presence there since she certainly wasn't doing much more than standing there, Elliot didn't really mind the hard work. With the furniture assembled, they tackled some of the boxes, sorting out clothes and linens. She watched Elliot hanging his uniforms in the closet and she smirked, looking forward to seeing the man wearing them._

_She'd always known about his service in the Marines, but she had to admit seeing him in uniform would definitely be a perk of their current arrangement. She figured, with all the shit she'd been through, she deserved something fun._

_Unfortunately, a lot of the clothing that had been supplied by the program was either not going to fit or just not stuff either of them would ever wear. They had a huge pile of things the get rid of and Olivia determined that if Stafford didn't want it back, then she would give it to a charity. Still, by the time they'd finished the boxes, they had plenty of clothes. The strangest thing was putting her clothes next to his, seeing something besides her own things in her closet – not just the unfamiliarity of her new clothes, but the presence of men's clothing._

_Elliot had pointed out the lack of a closet in the guest bedroom, leaving them no choice but to share the space. What he didn't mention, however, were the sleeping arrangements. _

_So when Olivia started yawning, she knew she was going to have to bring it up. She didn't want to presume that they'd sleep in the same room and she didn't want to assume she'd get the master bedroom while Elliot was displaced down the hall. _

_"I think it's about time we call it a night." Though Elliot still seemed to be going strong, she knew he had to be tired too._

_He shrugged. "There's a lot left to do and I have to report for duty on Monday."_

_Olivia felt bad, but she couldn't stop herself from yawning while he was talking._

_"But you're tired, so I'll tackle some boxes in the other room."_

_Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him to stop him from leaving. "It's not fair that you have to do all of it. I can unpack while you're working."_

_Elliot smiled. "I'll leave plenty for you, don't worry." He glanced at the freshly made up bed. "Are you sleeping in here?"_

_"I don't know. Do you want to sleep in here?" She felt she had to offer, even if she knew Elliot was too much of a gentleman to ask her to sleep in the guest room._

_He smirked, inclining his head toward the hall past her. "I guess it's out of the question that we're sleeping together?"_

_He was making a joke. At least, she thought he was. The truth was that she didn't have a clue and she knew, if she didn't desperately want him to not be joking, that she should have been able to tell the difference._

_She shrugged, avoiding his eyes, trying not to sound eager, feigning utter disinterest. She hoped he was as confused regarding their relationship as she was and therefore might not be able to read her either. "It's up to you."_

_His mind had to be recalling those brief moments from the night before when they'd both stopped thinking for a few minutes and simply felt. Or maybe it was just her._

_Finally he stepped forward. "I'll be down the hall if you need me."_

_She tried to hide the sad smile the formed on her face. "Good night."_

_His smile mirrored hers. "Night."_

_She didn't like being alone in the bedroom any more than she'd liked being alone in the house. Even with the reassuring sounds of Elliot moving around down the hall, she was lonely. The house was no longer creepy; it was just big. She wasn't used to a whole house and she tried to blame her discomfort on the sense that there was so much uninhabited space around her and the amount of responsibility that inherently came with it._

_She knew it wasn't really that, though, and the fact that she was certain she couldn't sleep without being in her partner's arms after one night was disturbing._

_It was only moderately less disturbing that he wasn't her partner anymore, that he was, in fact, her husband for the time being. Only moderately less because it wasn't a permanent situation. It felt permanent; it felt real. Nothing about setting up house and discussing donating their unwanted clothes to Good Will felt wrong. Even fighting with him only to make up and sit down to dinner together an hour later felt natural._

_The man was like crack. It only took one time, one night of snuggling in his arms, and she was addicted._

_She pondered the repeated suggestions of her doctors to see a psychiatrist to discuss the feelings brought up by her transplant. She'd refused to consider it so far, but she wasn't sure it was a bad idea anymore. Maybe she could use some help in figuring things out. Of course, what she needed help with was the fact that she was in love with her husband, which wouldn't exactly make sense to a doctor. Without being able to reveal the circumstances, which she knew damn well she couldn't do, she'd look really crazy. She sighed and realized she was just going to have to deal with it herself._

_So she closed her eyes and decided she'd have to settle for the consolation prize. She wasn't really his wife, but she was getting to live under the same roof with him, to be with him all the time outside of a work environment, to really get to know the man behind the detective she knew so well. It was something, something worth cherishing, something else she never would have had if it hadn't been for his insistence. _

_With a grin, she rolled over and decided it would be a bad idea to thank him for letting her see him shirtless more often or in uniform. She imagined how good he would look in those uniforms she'd watch him hang in her closet. She imagined how hot he would look in a close-fitting t-shirt and his camouflage pants._

_And then she imagined him smeared with blood and dying in some desert in the Middle East._

_No, there was no sleep coming with the fear of deployment hanging over her head._

_She was out of bed in a flash, padding down the hall toward the office where she could hear his fingers on the keyboard. He was sitting at the desk where she'd spent the afternoon, the darkness of the lamp-less room only relieved by the glow of the monitor. It calmed her considerably to see him there, perfectly fine and uninjured. Damn her imagination for getting the better of her._

_"Hey."_

_He turned around surprised. "I thought you were asleep. Did I wake you?" The guilt immediately settled on his face._

_She shook her head, stepping into the room, preferring to be in the darkness with him rather than the well-lit hall. "No, I couldn't sleep."_

_His eyes traveled down, taking in the over-sized pajamas she'd found in one of the boxes, and then a smirk settled on his face. "Can't sleep without your teddy?"_

_She laughed with him over the silliness of the light cotton printed with sheep jumping fences. She much preferred a tank top and boxers, but she'd have to buy some for herself. "Well we can't all sleep in our birthday suits."_

_His smirk faded as his eyes climbed back to hers, the playfulness fading into what Olivia almost labeled desire as he spoke. "Didn't stop you last night."_

_Leaning against the desk, she bit the bullet, turning the conversation away from the pleasant banter. "Allyson said there are rumors of deployment. Do you think you'll get shipped out?"_

_He shook his head. "Nah, I doubt it." His eyes moved back to the computer screen._

_Thought it was comforting to hear him dismiss it so easily, it wasn't enough to settle her fears. "Why not?"_

_Turning back, his face took on a serious expression, as though he'd just realized that she was far more concerned about it than she let on. "First of all, I just had major surgery less than three months ago."_

_Point, she thought. She'd forgotten about that._

_"And secondly, I'm sure it would defeat the purpose of witness protection to send someone into a war zone where they could die before they testify, right?"_

_She nodded, turning the reasons over in her head. "But you're not testifying," she whispered, suddenly desperate for him to wrap her in his arms and promise he would never leave her._

_He read her, as he always did, his hand reaching out and grasping hers. "I'm not going anywhere, Liv."_

_"But Stafford can't possibly tell the Marine Corps what to do." She was fighting to keep her voice even and not to give in to the fear that was plaguing her._

_His hand squeezed hers. "Ok, how about this, if they tell me I'm shipping out, we'll call Stafford and make him move us?"_

_She bit her lip and looked at him, seeing his worry etched all over his face. He wasn't the least bit worried about going to Iraq or Afghanistan or anywhere dangerous; he'd survived it before. He was worried about her. Seeing that in his eyes comforted her almost as much as a hug would have. She smiled, glad to know he wouldn't be leaving her._

_Nodding toward the computer, she saw a familiar New York City news page open. "What are you looking at?" But as he eyes moved over the page, she saw the search box, the word "obituaries" typed in._

_She grabbed the mouse, clicking the window closed before he answered._

_"Liv-"_

_"Don't. Just don't, El." She held his eyes, understanding his desire to look, yet knowing how very bad the idea was._

_"Aren't you curious?"_

_The truth was that she wasn't. Not in the least. She knew what it would say. A blurb about her career with the NYPD, a mention of her deceased mother, maybe a mention of all the victims' advocacy she'd participated in, possibly a mention of her short teaching career, though she doubted anyone knew that about her. Cragen and Fin and her friends knew her, better than any couple of sentences would explain her life, and the only person whose opinion really mattered to her was sitting in front of her._

_Elliot, however, was in a completely different position. He had a career and a family. He had to want to know what would be said about him, about his wife, about his children, about his selfless act of giving his partner a kidney. Of the two of them, she suspected Elliot was the one Stafford's warning had been aimed at, in theory at least, telling them to stay away from people they knew over the internet. Olivia wasn't the least bit tempted to email Cragen and say she was alive. She could only imagine how tempting it might be for Elliot to email his children, his wife, and say he was ok._

_When he reached for the mouse, Olivia took his hand. "Please, El, think about it. It's only going to make you feel worse." She saw the indecision in his expression, saw that he was used to trusting his partner, and so she continued. "They won't be able to verify anything you tell them anyway, it's just going to hurt them more in the long run."_

_"You're right. The Russian Mob wants to kill us. We're probably never going back."_

_Her stomach dropped. She'd been talking about him telling his family he wouldn't be home for a few years, but he'd just hit the nail on the head. As much as she anticipated that the situation was a temporary one, it wasn't necessarily. Even if she was able to testify and put away the Simonovichs there was no guarantee that the price would come off their heads. Perhaps especially if her testimony put the Simonovichs behind bars, others in the organization might want them dead even more for ruining their operation. _

_The odds were good that she and Elliot would be together for the rest of their lives. It was an entirely new concept of 'until death do us part' that she knew most people never imagined when making their marriage vows. Not that she'd really considered it either. She'd been trying to help Elliot, and wound up upsetting them both, but she hoped he didn't know how confused she was. "Telling them that you're alive but you'll never see them again isn't going to fix anything."_

_He shook his head, his hand turning over to close around hers again, giving her the comfort she hadn't expected. "No one would want to hear from me anyway."_

_There was something in his voice, in the way he avoided her eyes, that made her curious, but she didn't press. Elliot would tell her when he was ready, which she accepted might well be the day after never._

_"If we're going to survive here without going crazy, we have to accept it. We agreed to this. If you want to back out, you can, but we can't have it both ways, El."_

_The silence stretched between them for a long time before Elliot nodded. "I don't have anything to go back to, Liv."_

_She stared, wondering what the hell he meant by that. If his wife and kids weren't something to go back to, she didn't know what was. He clearly had something to tell her, but she suspected his last statement was all she would be getting out of him in the near future. She nodded, knowing that if she were to demand he explain himself he would only refuse._

_"We should probably try to remember that we're Ben and Abby now, huh?" She waited for his smile, knowing she'd always long for the times he'd slip and call her Liv. She loved hearing her name on his lips. "Speaking of which, how'd you know to call me Abby earlier?"_

_He chuckled. "Stafford forgot curtains too. I could see you guys in the dining room."_

_Olivia rolled her eyes. "Guess we can add that to the list."_

_Elliot nodded. "We should probably make one since it keeps growing."_

_Stepping toward the door with a yawn, she smiled back at him. "Make two. One of stuff we have to buy and one for all the stuff Stafford needs to pay for."_

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_She returned to her bed with a smile, hoping that she'd actually be able to get some sleep._


	47. Chapter 47

Part Forty-Seven  
_After_

_Had she fallen asleep an hour earlier, had she not had the conversation with Elliot, she would have expected it. If she'd even thought about it, she would have expected it._

_But she hadn't thought about it. She'd only thought about having made a bit of peace with Elliot and having accepted whatever bit of permanence there was in their situation. So she curled up in her new bed and dropped off to sleep._

_The nightmare came as it always did, replaying the horrific memories, being helpless, watching Peter's murder, knowing her own demise was certain to follow. The memory was bad enough and she had spent plenty of sleepless nights in the previous weeks because of it. Her imagination had been given new fodder, however, leaving her mind to conjure up all sorts of awful things. Instead of the normal horror of watching Peter's execution, it was Elliot's, continuing the pattern that had started the night before. But rather than the image of a suit-clad Elliot she was used to working with, he was dressed in military fatigues and rather than being in the living room where she'd seen Peter murdered, there was a desert where the living room had been._

_As if the sight of Elliot being shot repeatedly wasn't enough, and really, it was, if the option had been left up to her, the nightmare continued to twist away from the familiar, recognizable hideousness. As she turned to run for her own life, it wasn't the familiar images of Valentina and Eugeny that she saw. No, it was an entirely new scene as the kitchen faded into the basement of Sealview. Harris was there, his nightstick and handcuffs at the ready, a smug grin on his face. When she turned to run, the dining room and the rest of the house were gone, replaced with the barbed wire fence she'd seen around the perimeter of the base._

_Without even quite knowing what had happened, she was on the floor, covered in blood, the knife sticking out of her side. She tried to scream, but found herself too scared to make any noise at all when she looked up to see Harris standing over her. He had another knife and he was unzipping his pants and she just knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that he'd been the one to murder Elliot._

_Harris was laughing, some kind of maniacal laughter straight out of a horror film, as he lowered himself down over her, his mouth moving to cover hers._

_And then the scream broke free, even scaring her with the intensity._

_Instead of calling anyone's attention, instead of Fin rushing in, Harris only laughed, his enormous weight pressing down on the knife still sticking in her side. She screamed again, feeling the handcuffs around her wrists, knowing she was truly helpless. His hands were on her upper arms, pulling at her, his arms coming around her shoulders and crushing her into his chest._

_She tried to scream again, but she choked on her tears. She expected her breath to be full of the sweaty, disgusting stench she'd learned to associate with the man during their brief interaction, and was confused when it wasn't. It was the familiarity of that scent that brought her around a bit, realizing slowly that it wasn't Harris' chest she was pressed against. Then she realized it wasn't Harris' voice either._

_"Shhhh, Liv, it's ok, honey. Wake up."_

_Her arms moved around him of their own accord, squeezing him tightly. She sobbed against his shoulder, barely consoled by the feel of him safe and alive in her arms._

_He held her, rocking her gently, certainly knowing she was awake and still letting her enjoy the comfort of his embrace. His hand caressed her back, slowly sliding from her shoulders down to the small of her back where his other arm rested and then back up. Over and over, a protective, relaxing reassurance of his presence, as though he somehow knew that her face pressing into his chest wasn't quite enough._

_She didn't know how long it took. It felt like forever. But eventually, her heart rate slowed and her breathing calmed and her eyes drooped. She was drifting back to sleep when she heard his soft question._

_"You ok now? Think you can sleep?" Though he pulled his head back to look at her, his hold didn't release._

_She nodded against him, certain she could do anything he asked as long as he stayed there with her._

_But then his hands moved, guiding her down on the bed, pulling the comforter up around her. "Ok, get some sleep." _

_"No, don't-" She was too scared of having that dream again to care how desperate she looked. There were more tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Please don't leave, not yet."_

_He smiled, shifting over until he could pull the blanket over himself. "Can't have you waking the neighbors." _

_She snuggled up against his side, loving the feel of being wrapped in his arms. The last thing she thought of before she fell asleep was that, although he'd tried to make a joke out of it, he hadn't put up the least bit of resistance._

_"Fucking Stafford fucking forgetting fucking curtains." Elliot's grumbling woke her, but rather than being irritating, it was nice._

_She'd never woken up in such a good mood, despite having had such awful dreams. Rolling onto her side to avoid the bright light Elliot was complaining about, she almost giggled when he followed her lead. She would have been happy with having been allowed to snuggle away her nightmares with him. She never would have thought to want him to spoon against her back, curl his arm around her belly, bury his face in her hair and mutter that she was keeping him warm._

_Resting her arm atop his where it was wrapped around her, she shifted around ostensibly to get more comfortable when all she really wanted was to feel his body move to press against hers again. Satisfied that he was every bit as content as she was with the current situation, she closed her eyes._

_"So we're sleeping in today, Ben?"_

_He scoffed in her ear, nuzzled her neck, and then tightened his arm around her middle._

_It was all the answer she needed._

_The call of nature, however, wasn't so easily bested. When she awoke the second time, she had no choice but to get up, reluctantly leaving the warm body of her cuddly partner behind her. Though she tried to be as quiet as possible, she saw his eyes were wide open by the time she returned._

_He was awake, but he didn't seem particularly inclined to move as he stretched. "You getting up?"_

_She was up. She honestly had no intentions of going back to sleep. But, like all good intentions, they ran away with their tails between their legs when faced with a shirtless Elliot in her bed. "I haven't decided yet," she lied as she approached the bed._

_With a grin, Elliot extended his arm across where she'd been lying. "It's still early."_

_It was embarrassing for some reason this time, though she saw no reason to wait for a second invitation. Tucking her face into her pillow to hide her reddened cheeks, she felt Elliot's body once again shadow hers. He wasn't any different, she realized, it was simply that she was climbing in bed fully awake and aware and expecting to touch him. She just needed some time for her brain to catch up to the changes._

_As she lay there, knowing full well she wasn't about to sleep, knowing from the way Elliot's fingers were lightly tracing over her hands and arms that he wasn't sleepy either, she wondered what the hell they were doing. They'd discussed it; she'd been willing to accept the reality of them being Abby and Ben Reilly for years, forever if need be. Somehow, though, a few hours later, she was back to contemplating the fact that there was no guarantee there was anything permanent at all about their lives. Shipley had said it could be years before the Simonovichs went on trial and as a police officer, Olivia knew that was a very real possibility. But they were dealing with the Russian mob after all, and there was certainly every possibility that someone lower down in the chain would want to advance faster and kill his way to the top, alleviating any worry of Olivia needing to testify._

_So she was back at square one with no idea what the hell she was doing and even less of one as to what Elliot was planning._

_"I was thinking," Elliot's voice rumbled in her ear, making her wonder why she even cared. She loved the sound of his voice, doubly so when he was so close to her. "If you're going to wake up screaming every night and we've got to face the neighbors who sleep on the other side of that wall," he interrupted himself to clear his throat, giving her a fair indication that he was much more nervous than he let on. "Maybe I should sleep in here for a little while. You know, just until you're comfortable." His voice rose as he spoke, leaving his statement to sound more like a question._

_She smiled, appreciating that their unprecedented proximity was doing a number on him as well. "I've been having nightmares every night since I woke up. I guess I shouldn't really expect that they're going to stop any time soon." _

_Utter silence, as well as Elliot's suddenly still hand, clued her in on the fact that her words could easily be misinterpreted, undoubtedly telling him that she wished the nightmares would stop so she wouldn't have to sleep with him. Part of her wanted to smack him and roll her eyes at her egomaniac partner's new bent towards self-doubt. The rest of her was amazed her egomaniac partner was letting her see that he wasn't all muscles and snarky comments._

_Moving her hand over his and squeezing it, she tried to explain herself. "The only sleep I've had in all these weeks has been when you've been here with me. Apparently two nights with you was enough to get me addicted."_

_"You want to tell me about the nightmares? It might help if you talk about them." His voice was soft, but she could tell the insistence was there, as though he truly believed that it would somehow help her for him to know what had happened. But he already knew enough – he'd been the one to find her and Peter, after all. He knew the big points of what had happened. And he would undoubtedly demand to be there when she testified, when he would hear every last detail._

_She shook her head. "You turning into Huang on me? I don't need my head shrunk. I need those fuckers behind bars."_

_"Like I said before, you'll tell me eventually." He was quiet for a moment, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he finally continued. "Anyway, it was three."_

_Confused, she dared to upset their positions by looking over her shoulder. "What?"_

_He grinned, unflinchingly holding her eyes, obviously reassured plenty by her words. "Three nights. We've spent three nights together. You said two, but it was three."_

_She shook her head, rolling over fully to face him, hiding the grin that surfaced when his arm remained where it was across her waist and his hand came to rest on her back. "Last night and the night before. That's two." Raising an eyebrow, she dared him to tell her she was adding wrong._

_"You forgot the night at the Simonovichs." He grinned as he spoke, pleased, as always, to know something she didn't, but his smile disappeared quickly. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind-"_

_She cut him off by shaking her head, finding his apology unnecessary. She already thought about the bastards about every other minute. His mention of their names wasn't going to change that. Besides, she was too focused on what he'd said to care about anything else. "We never slept there. What are you talking about?"_

_Watching his face in those moments as he searched her eyes was like looking at a kaleidoscope. His expression slowly shifted from curious to uncertain to happy and finally to excited. "You don't remember?"_

_She fully understood the idea of one's blood running cold. Her mind raced through all the possibilities for what she might have done that she hadn't remembered. There was only one night that was a complete blank for her during their undercover stint – and the only thing she'd ever been able to recall from that night, besides being distinctly furious with Elliot, was that she'd been drunker than night than she'd ever been in her life. And she only remembered that much because she'd never blacked out before. There was the vague idea she'd had in her head about having snuggled with him, but until that moment, she'd truly thought she might have imagined it. Rather than a figment of her overactive imagination, she wondered if it really had happened._

_Swallowing hard and trying not to think of all the things she knew she'd be perfectly willing to do with Elliot while she was drunk, she shook her head. "I remember being really angry and really drunk. Then nothing until you tossed me in the bathroom the next morning when you were really angry." Although she'd been quick to brush off his concerns for bringing up that day, she shivered at her own reference to exactly how all of her nightmares started._

_Elliot's arm curled around her, pulling her fully against him. "Don't think about that."_

_She nodded, appreciating that he'd known exactly where her mind was going. "So I was mad at you. You want to explain to me what the hell happened?"_

_He grinned, his arm not loosening the slightest bit. "You forgave me."_

_He just let it hang there, his grin, his statement, and she knew he knew exactly what she would think._

_Her eyes widened, waiting for him to confirm or deny what they'd been playing at, both on the clock and off, the entire time they'd been undercover. She'd barely been in control of herself around the man when she was sober; god only knew what she might have done intoxicated, how she might have let him know he was forgiven. "How?" She managed to squeak the word, letting it stand as a whole question._

_"They wouldn't let us and a couple other couples leave because they knew we were drunk."_

_Oh, god, that could only make it worse._

_"You were drunk too?" It had been their deal, unspoken but understood, that only one of them was supposed to be drunk at a time. Such precautions generally kept things from getting out of hand on undercover assignments._

_And, she realized belatedly, that such a precaution might have been useful since the day after they'd both been drunk, she'd nearly been murdered._

_He shrugged, his eyes darting away in embarrassment. "I wasn't that drunk. I'm sure I could have driven us home."_

_She rolled her eyes. "I've heard that one before." They knew better. Even sleeping in a murderer's house was safer than driving home drunk. She didn't need to tell Elliot that._

_"I figured there were cameras on us and so I couldn't very well ask to sleep on the couch." He glanced up, meeting her eyes for only a second before looking away again. "That's all."_

_"No, it's not." She narrowed her eyes. There was something more to it or he would have looked her in the eye. She was sure of it. "If that's it, why were you happy to find out I don't remember it? And what about me forgiving you?" He wouldn't have said that if nothing had happened._

_He shrugged, his eyes coming close to, but not quite meeting hers. "I said I was sorry and you said it was ok."_

_"And?"_

_He shrugged again, directing his attention to pulling the cover up over them. "And nothing. We slept in the bed together that night. We were both drunk. That's all." He rolled over, turning away from her and opting for the summer sun rather than her stare._

_"That's all my ass." Something had happened that he didn't want to tell her._

_She wondered about how angry she'd been, both in her vague recollection of that night and when she'd woken up in the hospital. Yes, she'd been upset that her body had failed her so badly and that Elliot's kidney had been the only option for her survival, but she wondered if maybe some of that anger had been due to something that only her unconscious mind could remember._

_It had to be something big if the man who'd given her a kidney and chosen to give up his entire world to play house with her was refusing to tell her._

_Staring at his back, she knew the comfortable, easy time they'd been having was over once again and she strongly doubted, no matter what he'd said to the contrary, that he'd be willingly lying down beside her that night. Olivia sat up, swallowing down the lump of sadness. "You came to see me two days ago. What did you want?"_

_Something had been driving him that day, something that outweighed her threats, something that he'd decided to tell her. She figured it was probably the same something that had convinced him to donate a kidney. She suspected it was something that she'd brought on herself on the night she couldn't remember_

_His answer told her she was exactly right._

_Though his voice was so soft she had to strain to hear it in the quiet room, there was no mistaking his words. "You asked me to leave you alone. I was going to tell you goodbye."_

_And then she knew. She absolutely knew. She'd told him she loved him that night; she must have. That would have led him to believe she'd forgiven him for whatever he'd done. That would have led him to feeling so bad for her that he'd give her a kidney when he realized just how pathetic her life was. That would have led him to finally, after weeks of trying to pretend it hadn't happened, decide it was time to cut her loose. _

_The saddest part of the whole thing was that she couldn't say she hadn't brought it all on herself by falling in love with a married man._

***Author's Note: I'm having surgery on Wednesday, so I apologize in advance if there are any lengthy delays in the next part!***


	48. Chapter 48

Part Forty-Eight

_After_

_ Sunday flew by. There were still a million things remaining to be unpacked and sorted, furniture to be assembled, things to be done. While Elliot worked on the furniture, Olivia tackled as many of the boxes as she could. She arranged everything she could, put away everything within reach, even took the time to hang the shower curtain and lay out the bath mats. No, it wasn't the same as assembling and arranging all the furniture, but it was the best she could do and she thought that making the place look like a home would be appreciated. Elliot was used to that sort of thing, she imagined, he'd always had a wife who made sure the hand towels were folded over the towel rack. _

_ She made another pass at the kitchen as well, taking time to sort out the food that she'd haphazardly put away the day before. She made good use of the cleaning supplies Allyson had brought over as well, cleaning the oven, sink, and counters and then dusting all the furniture. While it looked clean, she had no idea where Stafford had found it. It could have been new from a discount store, or it could have been salvaged from a crime scene somewhere._

_ As she was emailing Stafford with a list of things they'd decided where his financial responsibility to provide, her phone rang. It was the first time she'd gotten a call with it and the sound was so unfamiliar and unexpected that she had no idea it was her phone. _

_ It seemed Elliot wasn't sure either, as he walked into the room with the beeping phone. "Is this one mine or yours?" Stafford had given them the same model, the only difference was that hers was silver while Elliot's was all black._

_ "That's mine." She reached for it, looking at the display out of habit. It had to be Stafford, she knew, because no one else had her number. Abby didn't know anyone, so although the number was unfamiliar, she couldn't imagine who else it would be. "Hello?"_

_ Elliot was still standing there, assuming whatever Stafford had to say involved both of them, and so caught the surprise and confusion on Olivia's face when a female voice responded to her._

_ "Hello, may I speak with Abigail Reilly?"_

_ Olivia figured the pause and initial urge to correct the caller regarding her identity would take a long time to fade. "Um, yeah, yes, this is she."_

_ She could hear a smile in the woman's voice. "Great! This is Kathy Crawford from San Onofre School. Joey Saville gave me your name. I know you prefer to teach high school, but would you be willing to consider working with elementary students?"_

_ She met Elliot's eyes for a moment, unprepared for anything resembling normal life, certainly not a career change, despite having known it was coming from Stafford's warning. "Sure, ok." Turning back to the desk, she grabbed a notepad and a pen, quickly jotting down the woman's name before she forgot it._

_ "Joey said you're just moving to the area and I'm sure you weren't expecting to be working until the fall, but, well, we're in a bit of a spot, and so I was hoping you might consider helping us out." As the eager, excited woman paused for breath, Olivia wondered if she should just declare that she wasn't working period._

_ But then she realized what she was being offered – work, a job, income, independence, freedom._

_ Thank god._

_ "We just moved in yesterday, but what did you have in mind?" Olivia tried to ignore it when Elliot moved closer, trying to read her note._

_ "You'd be helping us out so much! We've got a brand new summer camp program about to start for academically gifted children in addition to our regular summer school program and our English teacher just got word that her husband is transferring to Camp Lejeune in a week, so you can see we could use your help here. Are you available to interview tomorrow?"_

_ "Um-" The fact was Olivia had found her calling, her career. She hadn't been on a job interview in nearly twenty years and the skills needed to get herself accepted to the academy were different than those needed to get a teaching job. "Tomorrow? Yeah, that's fine."_

_ Kathy quickly ran through the particulars, giving her the address after they'd agreed on a time. Olivia felt good about herself when she hung up the phone. Maybe she could avoid ever having another one of those scenes at the supermarket with Elliot. She took another piece of paper from the notepad and rewrote Kathy's name, along with the address and time. Elliot stared silently the entire time._

_ Finally she turned to him. "What?"_

_ He was pissed. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenched, his arms folded across his middle. "What the hell are you doing?"_

_ Another fight with the man was the last thing she needed, but it appeared she didn't have much of a choice. "Apparently they don't want to wait until fall for me to start working. I have to go meet someone tomorrow."_

_ Continuing to glower at her, he nodded at the note. "At San Onofre? You do realize that's like twenty miles away, right?"_

_ Well, no, she hadn't realized that, but she wasn't about to tell him. "I'll take the car."_

_ "It's my car and I'll be taking it to work."_

_ Olivia contemplated the desk and decided, if needed, the stapler would do the most damage if she were to launch it at his head. "You'll be at work all day. You won't need it."_

_ "I'll need it to get there. I'm supposed to report halfway across the damn base. You'll have to cancel." He moved to the doorway, as though he really thought the discussion was over. "Besides, you can't drive yet, so I guess that's settled." His face was quite smug when he looked back at her as he stepped into the hall. _

_ "Settled my ass," she muttered as soon as he was out of earshot. She closed the door to the office and picked up her phone, dialing Stafford's number before she gave herself a chance to think about it. The call went to voice mail and Olivia was glad for it. It would be that much easier if she didn't have to make small talk. "Mr. Stafford, this is Abby Reilly. I have a job interview and Ben needs the car, so we're going to need that second car you promised us by ten o'clock tomorrow. Thanks."_

_ After spending the evening avoiding Elliot, Olivia was surprised to find him sound asleep in her bed. Of course, they had discussed having him sleep there in the hopes that they might be able to get some sleep rather than being tortured all night with her nightmares, but she still wasn't expecting to find her half-dressed, or mostly not dressed since she couldn't see under the blanket bunch at his waist, partner waiting for her in bed. With a shake of her head, she corrected herself. He wasn't her partner. He was her husband. And therefore it was perfectly natural for her to climb into the bed and snuggle under the blankets beside him._

_ But that knowledge didn't stop her from jumping when he rolled toward her a moment later, sleepily mumbling something into her ear and wrapping his arm around her. She felt the roughness of hair against her legs and realized that he'd actually gotten into her bed in only his underwear. She wanted to wake him up and kill him. Son of a bitch was teasing her. Or he was suddenly so self-involved that he didn't realize how awkward the situation would be for her._

_ Sighing, she tried not to feel the heat of his body as it pressed against hers, but when his hot breath brushed across her neck, she knew it was going to be a long, uncomfortable night._

_ Amazingly, the next thing she was aware of was an alarm clock ringing. She lay there, blinking into the darkness, wondering at the fact that she'd managed to sleep through the night. Elliot smacked the clock and immediately returned to plaster himself against her back, his arm wrapping around her again. It was no wonder then that she'd slept, she realized, because he'd been there, holding her, promising her with his presence that she was safe._

_ The sun was only starting to peek over the horizon when the alarm rang again a few minutes later. Elliot groaned and sat up to silence it once more._

_ "Liv?" The bed shifted as he stood up._

_ She rolled over, trying not to stare at his nearly bare body while he poked through the drawers of the dresser. "It's too early for work, isn't it?" She didn't actually have any idea of the time; she just wanted him to get back in bed with her._

_ He smiled at her as he pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. "I'm going to go for a run." He sat down at the foot of the bed to pull on socks and sneakers, but he stopped halfway through to look at her. "Do you want me to stay until it's light?"_

_ Shaking her head, she tried to pretend not to care. "No, it's ok. It'll be light soon."_

_ "If you're sure." He waited for a nod. "Be back in a half hour or so."_

_ "Just don't expect me to make breakfast." Olivia rolled over and tried to coax herself back to sleep, knowing that she didn't stand a chance without Elliot. When she heard the front door closing behind him, she started to feel guilty for having called Stafford without telling him. But then she recalled the way he'd dismissed her idea of working and trying to support herself somewhat and decided he needed to be reminded that she wasn't helpless._

_ Besides, she thought, it was always easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission and really, it wasn't like she needed his permission anyway._

_ By the time Elliot returned, she was sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping a cup of instant coffee, longing for the days when Elliot would arrive at work with a delicious cup of coffee and a decadent pastry for her as a peace offering of some sort. He nodded at her before he went upstairs to take a shower and get dressed. She continued to feel guilty, pouring herself a bowl of cereal so she could take her handful of morning meds. _

_ In no time at all, he was back, dressed in tan printed camouflage pants and a close-fitting tan tee-shirt. Though his pants weren't quite at tight as his shirt, they fit him quite nicely and gave Olivia something to appreciate. He paid her no attention as he dumped cereal in a bowl. _

_ He leaned against the sink while he ate, pausing after a few bites, finally noticing the way she was staring. "You ok?"_

_ Between the guilt and the embarrassment, she couldn't say anything. She nodded and ducked her head, staring at the milk and soggy Wheat-O's in her bowl._

_ "I've got to go, but when I get home maybe we can figure something out about getting you to that interview. We've got until the fall semester, right?"_

_ Wincing, she glanced up. "Mmmmpph," she muttered into her coffee. The guilt doubled and she sagged under its weight._

_ He smiled, appearing to be ignorant of her dilemma. "I'll call you when I get a minute."_

_ He was going to call to check on her. Because she'd be alone. Because he'd be worried. Because, she supposed, husbands called home during a break at their new job to check on their new wives all alone in their new houses._

_ She kind of hoped Stafford wouldn't come through with the car, if only to ease her guilt._

_ Stafford, however, was nothing if not reliable. At five minutes after eight, there was a knock on the door. Olivia found Becky on the porch, holding a duffel bag and offering her a set of keys. She smiled, tempted to tell the girl to take the car back. _

_ "Hi, Becky."_

_ Becky smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Reilly." She lifted the bag. "Doug said these belong to you." Then she jingled the keys. "And here are your car keys. Have a good day!" She barely waited for Olivia to accept the items before she dashed back to the curb, where she climbed into the passenger seat of a car._

_ Olivia wasn't sure, but she thought it was Stafford. She waved at them, assuming she should be polite since they were hardly responsible for her actions._

_ Sitting in the driveway was a light green Mazda and further inspection of the duffel bag contents revealed several pairs of curtains, new in their packages, as well as gift cards for a home improvement store. Sighing, she closed the bag and tossed it on the couch. Stafford clearly thought that handing over gift cards to pay for things he'd forgotten was the easiest solution. Stafford clearly had never gone shopping with Elliot and Olivia._

_ By ten, she was sitting in the parking lot of San Onofre school. As nervous as she'd been about driving, it had gone well. The new car was an automatic, as opposed to her Mustang, making driving about as passive an activity as sitting on the couch. She was early for the meeting, and so was just sitting there, staring at a lot of cars that all looked the same and wondering if she'd be able to find hers among them._

_ Her phone buzzed, the display reading "Ben" and bringing a smile to her face. When she answered, however, she remembered that she was a backstabbing two-faced bitch and wished she had let it go to voice mail. Except, she realized, he would have panicked and run home to find out what happened to her, only to find that she wasn't home._

_ "So, apparently this is what a coffee break is for." He was smiling and it only made her feel worse._

_ "For calling me?"_

_ "For sitting in an empty room with a mug of bad coffee for twenty minutes with nothing to do."_

_ She snickered, fondly remembering their kind of coffee breaks where they barely had time to fill their mugs halfway before they got a call to race somewhere else. "I miss it too."_

_ "Yeah, at least I have something to do besides play Suzy Homemaker. We'll figure something out for you, Li-Abby."_

_ She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn't do it. Not another minute. She didn't like to be lied to. She didn't like someone sneaking around behind her back. She couldn't do it to him._

_ "El, I'm at the school. I'm going to the interview. I want to work so I can pay my share, or at least as much as I can." She waited, hearing plenty in the long silence that followed._

_ "How did you get there?" His voice was flat, even, perfectly measured._

_ He was pissed as fuck._

_ "I asked Stafford to bring me that car he promised. He did." _

_ "Jesus, Ol-" He was fuming. She could see perfectly well the face he was making, the grimace, the way he'd be chewing on his lip to keep from screaming, the motion of his fingers curling into fists while he looked for something to hit. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're not supposed to be driving! It's dangerous. You could get hurt. You could cause an accident. You aren't cleared to work yet either. What are you thinking?"_

_ "Are you done?" She felt like she was sixteen and getting reamed out by her mother for staying out too late. "I'm going on an interview. I might not even get the job. And driving on a military base at twenty-five is probably less dangerous than sitting in a house all day watching television."_

_ "You lied to me."_

_ She squeezed her eyes closed, finding that the guilt wasn't alleviated at all even after having come clean. "No, I just didn't tell you I didn't do what you said."_

_ "It's the same damn thing-" His words cut off abruptly and Olivia could hear voices in the background. "We'll talk about it when I get home. Good luck at your interview, honey." Although his words were polite, the biting tone revealed plenty he didn't want to say in front of coworkers._

_ She didn't bother making a snarky comment back. She just hung the phone up and tried to blink back the tears._


	49. Chapter 49

Part Forty-Nine

_After_

_ Kathy Crawford was less energetic in person. Rather than the twenty-something, easily excitable woman their conversation had led Olivia to expect, Kathy was a tall, heavyset woman in her late forties with wide green eyes and streaks of gray showing through her black hair. She greeted Olivia with a warm smile and firm handshake, thanking her repeatedly for coming in to talk to her on such short notice._

_ Although it had been years since she'd been in a school for any purpose besides investigational ones, Olivia felt at ease in the woman's company. She assured her it was no problem to come in. Considering her home circumstances and how Olivia felt about being dependent on anyone at all for anything, she wasn't sure which one of them was doing the bigger favor._

_ Kathy settled behind her desk, her paperwork, pens, and notes all as carefully arranged as the perfectly looped scarf around her neck. "Lynn was one of the driving forces behind setting up this camp program. She was a huge proponent of giving the children more options than sports camps during the summer months, especially for the academically talented kids who would probably not enroll in the sports camps and spend the summer watching TV. Then she came in last week and announced they were moving to North Carolina and now I have sixty students without an English department!"_

_ Olivia nodded, her eyes wondering around the organized office. It was the detective in her, an instinct she knew would take a long time to overcome, taking in as much information as she could absorb in order to have as much insight into Kathy's personality as possible. Reading people had been a skill of hers long before she'd even been a cop, and so she determined that she had the upper hand in the negotiation. Kathy was the sort of person who liked to have things settled. She would want to mark down the English teacher for the summer camp in ink on the calendar and not change it. Having something up in the air would make her crazy, and so out of her desire to plan for the future, she would be more flexible than Olivia planned on being herself._

_ Elliot had been right – she wasn't cleared for work. And she knew better than to expect that she'd be cleared for a full day of teaching where she'd be standing on her feet six of the eight hours._

_ Smiling, Olivia started her end of the negotiation. "I've recently had major surgery, so I'm only able to work part-time right now and for the foreseeable future. Any position at all will need to be cleared by my doctors."_

_ Kathy's smile faltered the slightest bit, though Olivia noticed it was at the end of her statement rather than the beginning. "Ideally we're looking for someone two or three days a week in the morning. While we want to encourage the kids to learn, we're planning to have lots of free time for play and activities. You'd teach one or two classes, with perhaps some one-on-one tutoring with summer school students who require additional instruction beyond their classes."_

_ Olivia smiled. The doctors would probably leave the final decision up to her and she felt that what Kathy was explaining would be feasible for her. She wouldn't be on her feet and it would only be a few days each week, it sounded perfect. But there was no reason she had to let Kathy see that. "How old are the children?"_

_ This answer could prove to be the deal breaker. If she had to spend three days a week reading "Artie the Smartie" to six-year-olds, she was pretty sure she'd go insane._

_ "Mostly sixth- to eighth-graders, so eleven to fourteen. Joey said you were their substitute for high school and middle school, so we'd make sure you had the older students."_

_ Sighing in relief, Olivia nodded. "That definitely sounds doable, provided I get the go-ahead from my doctors."_

_ Kathy was grinning, as she pulled out a file from the black plastic box labeled 'Today.' "Looks like your paperwork is all in order, your references were great, and your credentials are up-to-date. I'll have to clear it with the principal, but as far as I'm concerned, you'll be a perfect match for us."_

_ Olivia wanted to laugh. Kathy's desperation was painfully obvious. "Great, that sounds good."_

_ They briefly discussed pay, possible days and hours, and even the possibility that Olivia might, by the end of the summer, consider taking the full-time permanent teaching position. It was just as the interview seemed to be wrapping up that Kathy asked what Olivia had been expecting the entire time._

_ "You mentioned your recent surgery, may I ask how you are? If everything's ok?" Kathy's eyes were darting away and Olivia knew she had been dying to ask. Not that she could blame her, had their positions been reversed, Olivia would have been curious as well._

_ Olivia smiled, assuring her new friend that she wasn't offended. "I had a kidney transplant a little over two months ago. I'm doing well, getting adjusted to a new lifestyle." She censored herself, afraid to give too much away with her honest words. If she wasn't careful, she'd accidentally mention something about the very physical job she was used to which would invariably lead to Kathy discovering all of her wonderful paperwork and glowing reviews were a bunch of shit._

_ Whatever Kathy had been expecting, that wasn't it. She looked shocked. "A kidney transplant? My goodness, that's – well, it's incredible! Did you have to wait a long time?" Her cheeks reddened as she realized it was perhaps not something Olivia would want to discuss._

_ Shaking her head, Olivia smiled. "No, actually, it wasn't long at all. I-uh-" She paused to think of an explanation. "I was in an accident and was in a coma. When I woke up, my- um- uh-," she choked on the idea, trying to make the concept seem right in her head so it would sound right in her voice. It wasn't working. Her partner, not her husband, had given her the kidney. It felt somehow disloyal to say otherwise._

_ Her partner had selflessly saved her life; her husband was a selfish, controlling asshole._

_ She forced a smile, praying that Kathy would attribute her discomfort to the topic rather than her words. "My-uh-Ben gave me one of his kidneys."_

_ Kathy's eyes widened further, amazement taking over her expression. "Ben is your husband?"_

_ Olivia nodded, thankful that she hadn't had to force out the word that felt like the biggest lie she'd ever told. "Yes."_

_ "Wow." Kathy shook her head slowly. "That's just wow."_

_ Feeling self-conscious, Olivia nodded. Yes, it certainly was wow. Especially when Olivia hadn't had a say in the matter. But she knew better than to point that out, not with the way Kathy was smiling._

_ "He must really love you."_

_ Olivia stared, the words somehow meaningless in her head. "What?"_

_ Kathy smiled harder, as though she couldn't quite contain her happiness. "To do something like that for you – your husband must really love you!"_

_ The words weren't meaningless. On the contrary, they were full of meaning. So full that they took up all available space in her brain as she tried to comprehend them._

_ Holy fucking mother of-_

_ She squeezed her eyes closed, her jaw clenching as she tried to keep herself from crying in the middle of an interview. It was hard to breathe and she concentrated on pulling in one breath after another, hoping the painful grip on her chest would release._

_ The hand on her arm took her by surprise, and she jerked away, wondering how she hadn't noticed Kathy getting up and walking around the desk to sit next to her. She was hyperventilating, her chest heaving. Her face burned in embarrassment._

_ "I'm so sorry, Abby. I shouldn't have asked." Although Kathy had pulled her hand back, it was obvious that she still wanted to offer comfort._

_ Olivia shook her head, trying to brush off the concern that she knew she looked like she deserved. But, she realized, there was no way she could explain the real reason for her meltdown to Kathy. She forced a smile and tentatively met Kathy's glance. "I'm sorry myself. It's just very emotional for me."_

_ Kathy nodded, her hand reaching for her phone. "Would you like to call your husband? Maybe you'll feel better if you talk to him?"_

_ No, Olivia thought, talking to Elliot would just make her feel like shit. He'd risked his life to save her, put up with her wrath for having done so, and she'd fucking lied to him. Forget about asking Stafford for a divorce; Elliot was probably already working on getting one himself._

_ He fucking loved her._

_ And she was a fucking bitch._

_ She didn't deserve him, which was probably why he was so damn mad._

_ Sitting up straight, Olivia shook her head at Kathy. She had to finish the interview, to get out of there, then she could figure out how to go about apologizing to Elliot "No, no, I'm ok. Really, I don't know what came over me."_

_ Kathy winced, then nodded. "It's a sensitive subject, I'm sorry I brought it up. You'll forgive me?"_

_ Olivia smiled. "Yes, of course, I hope you'll give me a chance to prove I'm not normally a basketcase!"_

_ "Let's get some coffee." Kathy stood and snagged the mug off her desk. "Coffee fixes everything."_

_ With a slightly forced laugh, Olivia stood as well. "As long as it's better than what I made this morning, you're right."_

_ As it turned out, Kathy was easy to talk to. The two women found a fast rapport, discussing various things over two cups of coffee. Olivia hadn't had a close female friend since she'd lost touch with Casey, and that had been several years. And even with Casey, their conversations mostly stemmed from work and personal stories that somehow tied back to work. With Kathy, however, it was different. They started out discussing the needs of the military children, which Olivia managed to fake her way through, then moved on to education in general, and finally, settled into random topics._

_ Olivia had a genuine smile on her face when she left. She checked her phone after she was back in the car, hoping that Elliot had called back, but he hadn't. He was good and angry and she felt terribly guilty. Having realized his motivations for all the sacrifices he'd made, she felt even worse. Lower than dirt. He'd given up so much for her; he had every right to act like an ass._

_ And, she figured, even ordering her around made sense in the context of how worried he must have been._

_ As she drove, she noticed the commissary and decided to stop. It wasn't much, but she thought making dinner, or attempting to, would be a peace offering. It would be harder for him to hold onto his anger if she was extending an olive branch. At least, she hoped so._


	50. Chapter 50

Part Fifty

_After_

_ Olivia's plan had quite a few holes. Not only couldn't she cook, but she also hadn't had any idea of what to make. Nor had she any idea of what sort of ingredients she might need to make whatever it was she would end up making._

_ Oh, and there was the fact that the pantry was empty except for the items they'd bought at the grocery store. They'd been picking up food and snacks. They didn't have the things like salt and garlic powder and vinegar than even her pathetically bare cupboards in New York had collected over the years. Shopping without Elliot's disproving face was a bit easier though. She grabbed random ingredients, and even more random spices, in the hopes that she could find something in that cookbook he'd bought that used what she had and wasn't too complicated._

_ The sad part came when she was staring at the meat in the freezer section, fighting the flashbacks to that god-awful meat processing plant she'd gone undercover in once upon a time, and trying to figure out what the hell Elliot liked. They'd eaten together a million times over the years, but it was usually at a diner or take-out, places where she could order for him as easily as she could order for herself. But she sure as hell wasn't going to impress him and earn his forgiveness with a stack of pizza boxes or a pile of microwaved hot dogs._

_ Everything about Elliot screamed meat and potatoes to her, but after about five seconds of staring at the ground beef, she decided he'd have to compromise. If she had to cook, he was going to have to learn to like chicken, because at the very least, she could identify it._

_ It was well past lunch time by the time she returned to the house with the groceries and started paging through the cookbook. She kept her phone on the counter next to her, hoping Elliot would break down and call to check on her. It would hardly be out of the ordinary for him to stay out of contact, especially while they were fighting. They could ignore each other like it was going out of style when they were really angry. But with the recent change in circumstances, with their new lives, she felt lonely and missed his presence. They'd been together nonstop for so long, it felt like it had always been that way. So it seemed like more of an insult that he didn't call._

_ Still, she tried not to think about it. She'd settled on fried chicken because it struck her as something he would like. She'd even knocked on Allyson's door and asked if she could borrow bread crumbs._

_ Finally she gave in and called him at quarter after three. She'd need to know when he'd be home if she was going to have dinner ready for him, after all._

_ "Yeah, what?"_

_ She was taken aback by his anger, surprised that he wasn't even bothering to be polite. It didn't matter, she told herself, he had every right to be angry. She hadn't yet apologized. No time like the present, they always said. "Look, I'm really sorry, uh-," she wanted to call him El so he would know she really meant it, but such a slip could be dangerous. She had to get used to their new names. "Ben. I mean it. Do you have a minute?"_

_ He sighed and she could see the grimace on his face. "I'm at work, Abby. I'll talk to you later."_

_ Damn it. She'd hoped her words would ring sincere, so he might understand she really meant it. "Ok, well, I was just wondering when you'll be home."_

_ He paused, the length of the silence uncomfortable considering the simplicity of the question. "I'm done at five, plus the drive. Little after five, I guess."_

_ "I really am sorry, Ben. Really."_

_ "Bye." He didn't say another word, just disconnected the call, leaving Olivia listening to the dead air._

_ She kicked the trash can, muttering to herself. If he loved her, the way Kathy had implied, the way she'd started to believe, he could have pretended to accept her apology. He could have at least listened to her. Taking a deep breath, she righted the plastic container she'd kicked over and went back to gathering the ingredients for dinner. Once everything was ready, short of actually cooking it, she left the kitchen._

_ The duffel bag Becky had delivered was next on her list, and she decided that hanging the curtains would give them a bit of privacy. The boring cream colored fabric left a lot to be desired stylistically, but it served its function. Olivia dragged one of the dining room chairs around to each of the windows in the dining and living rooms to put up the curtains Stafford had provided. When that was done, she measured the remaining uncovered windows, carefully making notes so they'd be sure to buy the right sizes when they went shopping._

_ Olivia sent Stafford an email thanking him and letting him know about the job she expected she'd be offered by the end of the week. Their contact would need to know where to find them; if he were to have some information she needed, she didn't want to have to wait until she got home from work to hear it._

_ Before she knew it, it was time to put the chicken in to cook. Though she usually tried not to eat anything fried, she had to admit the food smelled delicious as it cooked. She warmed some rolls in the oven and heated up a can of green beans to round out the meal, thinking she'd done a pretty damn good job for someone who'd never successfully managed more than boiling pasta in her life._

_ At 5:15, she set the table and prepared two plates of chicken, beans, and a roll. At 5:25, she took two bottles of water out of the refrigerator. At 5:30, she put the plates in the oven to keep them warm._

_ At 5:45, she called Elliot's cell, leaving a brief message saying that she just wanted to check in and see if he was delayed._

_ At 6:15, she called him again, knowing exactly how worried she sounded as she asked him to please give her a call as soon as possible to let her know when he'd be home._

_ At 6:30, she called him yet again, shocked beyond words when he picked up and disconnected the call without saying a word. Furious, she pulled the plates out of the oven and tossed all the food in the trash. If he was going to be an asshole, she didn't need to cook for him._

_ At 6:50, she turned off her phone, just so she wouldn't be tempted to answer should he happen to call to beg for mercy._

_ Somewhere around 7:30, she went to the bedroom, wishing she could get good and drunk to help ease the wrath. But they hadn't bought any alcohol, something she made a mental note to remedy. Even if it wasn't the best idea for her new kidney, she felt like she'd rather have it around in case she ever wanted it._

_ It was almost 8:00 when Olivia decided that she and Kathy had been terribly confused. If Elliot loved her, he wouldn't have left her sitting there, staring at the phone she'd turned back on, wondering if something terrible had happened to him and no one knew to call her._

_ At 8:13, she heard the front door open and Elliot's voice calling for her a bit too loudly._

_ Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she raced down the stairs, hoping there was a legitimate explanation. "Ben?"_

_ There he was, stumbling through the hallway and dropping onto the couch. He turned belatedly, finally realizing she'd spoken. "Hey, Liv-," his voice was still too loud, his vague smile revealing that he'd been drinking. _

_ "Lower your voice, Benjamin!" She glanced at the wall they shared with the neighbors in a paranoid fashion. "What the hell is wrong with you?"_

_ He stared at her as she crossed the room as though he really didn't know what she was talking about. Before she reached him, however, he remembered, his eyes narrowing and his lips curving into a frown. "Fuck you."_

_ She felt like slapping him, but she resisted the urge. "You said you'd be home around five."_

_ He rolled his eyes. "You slipped into that nagging wife role real easy, didn't you?"_

_ Her hands balled into fists and she tried to come up with a single reason why it would be a bad idea to hit him. She couldn't think of one, but she resisted anyway. "I was worried. You could have called."_

_ He shrugged, his attention shifting to his boots as he unlaced them and threw them to the floor. "You lie to me, I lie to you." He grinned at a joke she didn't understand. "It's an equal opportunity fake marriage. Neither one of us wants to be in it, so let's just be honest here, Olivia."_

_ "You shouldn't have driven, Ben. You're drunk."_

_ He stood up then, stepping in front of her and grabbing her arms. "I'm not drunk." His eyes met hers, cold and steely and unfeeling. "I'm just fucking miserable." _

_ Olivia swallowed hard and shoved his hands away, suddenly quite certain he would have been able to pass any sobriety test she gave him. He wasn't intoxicated. He was just being an asshole. "This was your brilliant idea, remember?"_

_ Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he held it up between them. "So what the hell did you want? Scared of the dark again?"_

_ She didn't want to tell him, the whole idea sounded so stupid to her that she was embarrassed, but she squared her shoulders, determined to prove that she hadn't just been afraid to be without him. "I cooked you dinner."_

_ He stared at her, perhaps realizing the truth in her words. "What?"_

_ "It's in the garbage if you're hungry." She stormed out of the room and up the steps, locking the bedroom door behind her. Fuck the man if he thought he was sleeping in her bed. She didn't care if she was up all night in terror. She didn't need him. She didn't want him. She didn't love him._

_ She'd barely made it across the room to sit on the bed when Elliot's knock came. She ignored it._

_ "Liv, please open the door."_

_ She glared at the door, desperately wanting to either ignore him or tell him to fuck off. She was hurt. She was pissed. It wasn't a good combination. But she was an adult, something Elliot didn't tend to be when he was upset, which he was currently was, and she wasn't sure what he would do. She wouldn't put it past him to kick in the door if only to prove to her that he could._

_ Resenting the fact that she couldn't even set her own physical boundaries, she crossed the room again to unlock and open the door. "What?"_

_ He looked surprised and she counted a point for herself. He'd expected to spend the night pounding on the door and contemplating taking it off the hinges. "I-uh-," he stumbled as he tried to come up with something to say. Then he met her eyes, regret filling his face. "Did you really make me dinner?"_

_ Olivia looked down and shrugged. "Yeah, I made fried chicken. I wanted to apologize for going on that interview behind your back."_

_ Elliot squeezed his eyes closed, and then he sighed. "I'm sorry, Liv."_

_ She shrugged, trying to pretend it hadn't hurt as much as it had. "Don't worry about it."_

_ "It smells good downstairs." A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Wish I'd gotten to try it."_

_ "I don't know if it was actually edible." She felt herself smiling back. "But I didn't burn the house down, so there's that."_

_ He chuckled. "So."_

_ "So." It was strange, she realized, for them to end a fight by apologizing to each other. In the past, they'd usually either kept fighting or just didn't speak until the fight blew over. It was the sort of approach that wouldn't work as long as they lived in the same house, so Olivia decided a little awkwardness was to be expected as they tried a new way of handling their arguments._

_ "How'd the interview go?" He was trying, she could see that much, but he still had reservations about the idea._

_ She was trying herself, trying to get over the anger, the hurt, that his behavior had caused, trying to attribute his distaste for the idea of her working to his concern. It was easier said than done. "It went well. I have to check with the doctors, but I don't think it'll be a problem."_

_ Elliot nodded, his eyes moving from hers as he shuffled his feet. "Sounds like you've got it all worked out."_

_ Sighing, she fought the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. "El, I don't have a damn thing worked out. I'm trying to get by here, just trying to survive."_

_ He nodded, though somehow still communicating clearly to her that he didn't agree. Finally, he stepped back, angling his head toward the stairs. "You coming back down? It's too early for bed."_

_ "I think I'm going to read for a while." It was too early for bed and she didn't feel like reading, but she was still angry and she knew avoiding Elliot until the feeling faded was a better idea than being close enough to him that he might upset her again._

_ He hesitated, trying to read her expression, evidently finding nothing in her carefully blank face. "Ok, then I-uh- good night. I'm going to watch TV for a while and make something to eat."_

_ "Night." She closed the door and turned away, leaving the door unlocked and wondering if things were ever going to get better with them._

_ She had no idea how long she'd been asleep when the unfamiliar sounds woke her. In fear, she jerked upright, instinctively reaching for her gun on her nightstand before she remembered she didn't have a gun anymore. But she did have a husband, she recalled, and it had been him coming into the bedroom that had woken her._

_ "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me." Her heart was racing as she lay back down. _

_ He was leaning against the bureau, frozen midway through taking off his shirt. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."_

_ "It's ok." She wasn't really mad, not over him waking her. She was just nervous, not sure she'd ever adjust to the changes._

_ A moment later, he pulled back the blankets and climbed into the bed. "Night."_

_ "Night." Her mouth went dry as she waited for him to snuggle up to her the way he had the previous night._

_ It became evident, as the seconds ticked by into minutes, that he wasn't going to. Either he knew she'd still been somewhat angry when she'd gone to bed or, she realized, more likely he'd only snuggled up to her the night before because he'd been sound asleep when she'd joined him. He wasn't in love with her. Kathy had been wrong, misinterpreting the half of the facts she'd been given as a complete story. Olivia had been right in her initial assessment; Elliot had saved her life out of loyalty and friendship and guilt that no one else would bother. Swallowing hard, she tucked her hands under her chin and promised herself that she wasn't hurt by the realization. If he loved her, he'd want to cuddle with her even when he was awake and not just when he was somewhat confused and half asleep and thinking that it was his real wife climbing into bed with him. _

_ The nightmares came as they usually did, the same images, the same horrors, the same shriek of fear, and eventually, the same arms cradling her as she emerged from the memories. Any anger, any hard feelings, were forgotten as he rocked her gently, shushing her, calming her until she came back to herself. Her nails, which had dug into his shoulders in terror, slowly released their grip as she realized she wasn't in danger. She was still shaking, trying to control her breathing, letting herself remain in his embrace for a few extra minutes to draw from his strength._

_ She fucking hated the helplessness. She hated needing him to be there to keep her from screaming until she woke the neighbors. She hated that she couldn't get past what had happened. She'd gotten over plenty of hideous shit in her life, but the Simonovichs appeared to be the last straw, the demon she would never best._

_ One of his hands rubbed slowly up and down her back, his other arm held her tight, supporting her. His face turned into hers, his lips pressing lightly against her ear as he spoke softly. "Are you ok?"_

_ Still fighting to control her rapid breaths, she took the hint and started to pull back. "Yeah, I'm ok. Sorry."_

_ But his arm didn't release, the hand that had been massaging her back stopping against her neck and pulling her back toward him. "No, stay."_

_ She wanted to, she desperately did, but she knew she couldn't. She knew he was just being kind to her. Shaking her head, she tried to pull away again._

_ "Liv, it's ok." He loosened his arm the slightest bit, still continuing to hold her even as he moved his face to catch her eyes. "That was a bad one, huh?"_

_ She stared at him, mesmerized by his proximity, by the pure worry etched into his features. She didn't know what he'd asked. She barely registered that he'd spoken._

_ "I haven't heard you scream like that yet." He pulled her closer, folding her into his arms once again. "Are you sure you're ok?"_

_ She didn't know. The nightmare had been standard in her mind, awful, but it didn't stick out as any different than any other. Perhaps it had been her state of mind when she'd gone to bed that resulted in her screaming so loudly. Perhaps, she thought, Elliot's own state of mind made it seem like her nightmare was worse. Either way, if guilt and upset had an effect on her dreams or on Elliot's perception of them, she prayed that comfort and security would have an equal effect. She accepted the continued support from him, curling her arms over his shoulders and squeezing him tight._

_ He responded the moment she did, tightening his hold still further until she wasn't sure where he ended and she began. "Shhhh, you're ok, Liv, I'm here."_

_ "I know." She nodded against his head, her fingers brushing his short hair. "I was just scared." She was talking about her dream, but he heard something else._

_ "I'm so sorry, baby. I'll never do that again, Liv, I swear," he choked out, his voice revealing that he'd actually started to cry upon hearing what he thought was an accusation. "I won't leave you here alone like that ever again."_

_ "No, it wasn't you." She shook her head against him, hating that she'd made him feel guilty._

_ "I promise."_

_ Once Elliot got something in his head, Olivia knew there was nothing she could do to dissuade him from it. Therefore, she didn't bother trying again. Instead she just clung to him, knowing that it was all she could do, understanding that he was getting as much comfort from the embrace as she was._

_ It was a long time before he finally shifted, not releasing her as he stretched back out on the bed. They remained curled into each other, eventually drifting off to sleep._


	51. Chapter 51

Part Fifty-One

_After_

_ Tuesday started out quietly. Rather than the energetic way Elliot had gotten up and out the day before, he lingered in bed long after his alarm went off. He silenced the annoying beep and snuggled back into the blanket, wrapping his arm tightly around Olivia. _

_ She lifted her head, expecting he was just as tired as she was after not getting much sleep. "No run today?"_

_ He laughed. "Fuck no." He shifted, his hand moving to brush her hair back from her face. "Unless you want me to go?"_

_ Tightening her arm, she shook her head at him. "Nope, you're good."_

_ "I've got more time before I have to get up. Go back to sleep."_

_ She almost argued that it was hard for her to fall back to sleep once she was awake, but she stopped herself. Even if she didn't sleep anymore, she was perfectly content right where she was and she had no desire to encourage Elliot to leave a moment sooner than he had to. And then she found herself speaking, her words coming out of her sleepy brain without forethought. _

_ "You'll be home before dark tonight, right?" She felt stupid as soon as she said it, even though she knew he hadn't meant it when he'd thrown it in her face the previous night._

_ He swallowed hard, his silence telling her exactly how bad he felt for having said anything. "I'm sorry," he offered after a long pause._

_ "I wasn't fishing for an apology. I was just curious."_

_ "Don't you dare cook for me again. You don't owe me anything, Liv." He pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "I'll pick something up for us tonight."_

_ She smiled up at him. "You're just afraid to eat anything I cook."_

_ He grinned. "I wasn't going to say it." He squeezed her again. "But I don't think you'd actually try to kill me. At least not by poisoning me."_

_ "No, when I decide to kill you, it'll be with my bare hands." She laughed with him, enjoying the closeness. She wasn't used to the sort of relationship where she could lie in bed with a man and joke. She liked it. She liked sharing space with someone. She liked knowing someone was there. She liked being married; huge fights notwithstanding._

_ Olivia's only goal for the day was to call her new doctor's office and set up appointments. She was feeling much better, but she knew that she tended to stay that way as long as she was on antibiotics. It was usually within a few days of completing a course of medicine that she'd start to feel tired and crappy and eventually discover she was sick again. Of course, things had changed and she knew Elliot would be keeping a close eye on her. He wouldn't let her get as sick as she let herself get. It bothered her to realize that she was counting on someone else to help her maintain her health. She'd always been the sort of person who took care of herself. She hadn't been herself since she'd woken up suddenly sick and with a new kidney. It was something she wanted to fix. Regardless of the situation around her, regardless of her relationship, she had to be herself. Even if she went by another name for the rest of her life, inside, she wanted to be Olivia Benson. She would never feel like she was in control until she could rely on herself._

_ Unsurprisingly, the doctor wanted to see her as soon as possible. He'd received her medical records and, according to the nurse, if he'd had her phone number he would have called and insisted she come in on Monday. Olivia agreed to a visit that afternoon, despite the reservations she had about scaring Elliot with the mention of an appointment so soon._

_ Of course, Olivia Benson would simply not mention something to Elliot to avoid having an argument with him. But he would undoubtedly ask how her day was when he got home and she wasn't about to lie to him again. _

_ Perhaps the real secret to coming to terms with her life was accepting that she wasn't Olivia Benson anymore. Elliot wasn't Elliot either. Things had changed around them and they had to change too._

_ She could change. She would change. She would survive, whoever the hell she was._

_ So as soon as she'd hung up with the nurse, Olivia dialed Elliot's number._

_ "Hey, Abby." His voice revealed his smile, bringing one to her face as well._

_ "Hey, Ben." She glanced at the paper she'd written down the directions to the hospital on and felt the smile fade. "I talked to my new doctor and they've got an opening today. It's really just to meet him and let him see that I'm ok."_

_ Elliot was quiet, his mood changing quickly. "Should I come with you? If I tell my boss about the transplant I'm sure they won't mind." He was scared. Fuck no, Elliot hadn't changed. Elliot was gone. There was only Ben now; just Ben who was terrified about his wife getting sick while he wasn't there to take care of her._

_ "No, I'm fine. Really, I haven't felt this good since –" She tried to think, to give an honest answer, but she couldn't come up with anything. "God, I don't know, before the transplant probably. He's never seen me and the last thing in my chart is from the Navy hospital in Rhode Island. He has no idea if I'm ok or not."_

_ "Neither do I. I'm not a doctor. I think I should come with you."_

_ The warm fuzzies from that morning were gone. She wanted to scream in frustration. "I'm fine and you know it."_

_ "You weren't fine last night." He was moving, noises carrying through the phone as he closed a door. "I want to come with you. When's the appointment? Should I come home or meet you there?"_

_ "Fuck you, Elliot. You're not invited."_

_ The flurry of activity stopped and there was silence for a moment. "Ok, maybe you're physically ok."_

_ She didn't want to laugh considering how mad she was, but apparently her anger towards him was the very thing he needed as reassurance. "Told you so."_

_ "You still weren't ok last night."_

_ It wasn't a discussion she wanted to have, least of all over the phone. "A nephrologist isn't the person to help me with nightmares."_

_ "Maybe you should talk to someone who can."_

_ She swallowed hard. She wasn't sure anyone could. It wasn't like she was so scared of imaginary germs that she couldn't stop washing her hands. The things in her nightmares had happened, they were very real, and she wasn't at all convinced that talking about them would help. Talking about them certainly wouldn't make them go away._

_ When she didn't answer, Elliot spoke again, his voice softer, laced with anger, reminding her of the pissed off man who'd taunted her about being afraid without him the night before. "I need to go somewhere tonight after work, so I'm going to be a little late."_

_ She wanted to kick something. She wanted to kick someone. No, Elliot wasn't gone. Elliot was still there, and obviously, still a jackass. She wouldn't go along with everything he wanted and therefore he was going to make her sit there alone when he knew full well she hated it._

_ "You're an asshole, you know that, right?"_

_ "So you've said." He sighed as the hinges on the door he was opening whined. "It doesn't have anything to do with the discussion. I just have to go someplace after work. I won't be long. I'll be home before dark."_

_ Staring at the kitchen trash can and contemplating kicking it again, she wasn't sure she felt like forgiving him. She suspected that poor trash can was going to get kicked a lot. "Will you be drunk?"_

_ "You'll tell me how the appointment goes?"_

_ Nope, she didn't want to forgive him. Poor trash can was doomed. "I will. If you're sober when you come home."_

_ "Jesus, you want me to worry about you all afternoon?" _

_ "How long you worry is entirely based on how long you're out doing whatever it is that suddenly came up." As irritated as she was with the man, she felt a surge of pride that Olivia Benson was still inside her somewhere, determined to be mean to her partner when she felt he deserved it. But then Abby spoke up, uncomfortable with the idea of torturing her husband even if he deserved it. "The appointment is at two."_

_ "I'll call you at three then." He was gloating. She knew it._

_ "I won't tell you anything."_

_ "You'll tell me if you want me to smuggle greasy cheeseburgers in for dinner after you're admitted to the hospital." _

_ "Fuck you." She wanted to argue that she wasn't sick enough to be admitted to the hospital, but she suspected that was exactly what he wanted. He didn't deserve the satisfaction. "Either I'm here when you come home or I'm not. I'm sure it won't affect you any."_

_ "Abby, please?"_

_ She wasn't prepared for him to plead. It hurt. She wasn't prepared for that either. "Will you come home on time?"_

_ The loud sigh told her the answer long before his words did. "I can't, I made arrangements with someone."_

_ "Cheating on me so soon? We've only been married three days."_

_ "Six-thirty at the latest, I promise."_

_ Unable to kick him, she did the next best thing. She hung up, immediately turning the phone off so he couldn't call back._

_ Her appointment with the new doctor went well. Doctor DeMarco was pleasantly surprised with her in person compared with the picture she'd presented on paper. He checked her over carefully, insisting on giving her a full physical so he could draw his own conclusions. Her bruises were fading and he suggested that, provided she remained infection-free following her current course of antibiotics, she might be turning the corner from acute illness to maintenance. He reminded her that the transplanted kidney would always be a source of concern and that she would have to maintain a far closer relationship with her doctors than most people, but he was optimistic that she would soon be able to live without the fear of frequent hospitalizations._

_ He was more hesitant than Olivia would have liked when she brought up the idea of working. When she explained her job wouldn't be physically demanding, that it would just be teaching, he actually seemed more worried. The kids, he warned, could be a constant source of infection._

_ But, when Olivia more or less told him she couldn't stand the idea of not working for much longer, he said it was still a possibility. He wanted to see her again, after he ran some additional blood work, and after she'd been off the medicine for a few days to see how she was doing before he made a determination regarding her return to work._

_ Perhaps the best news was when he looked at her current weight and compared it to her records. It wasn't that an almost ten pound gain was good news, no, she cringed when she'd seen the number on the scale; it was that DeMarco asked her if she was feeling strong enough to start exercising. She'd never been sedentary and she was desperate for the chance to do something active._

_ He wanted her to start slow, he cautioned, with a glare that reminded her of Elliot, to try a few fifteen minute walks. After a month, he said, if she remained healthy and felt good, then they would revisit the discussion and think about running or weights. She couldn't wait to get back to exercising, to moving around, to feeling strength in her muscles. It wasn't just the ten pounds that she'd gained that bugged her, it was the mushy feel of her body where she'd once had hard muscles._

_ She was practically floating when she went back to the car, happy that he'd also lifted her driving restriction, even though she'd already determined that for herself. But DeMarco had been thorough and a bit behind schedule, so it was almost half after three when Olivia reached for her phone to call Elliot._

_ Yes, she'd been angry, but she knew that he was truly worried, even if he tended to act like a dick when he was scared._

_ There was a message from moments after she'd hung up on him, and although it was against her better judgment to listen to it since it was likely to piss her off, she did anyway._

_ "Damn it, Abigail Reilly," he paused, dropping his voice to a whisper before he continued. "Do you have a middle name? It's just fucking rotten to hang up on someone."_

_ She found herself laughing, despite his anger. He was such a dad, wanting to call her by her full name to convey his anger._

_ The second message, which she'd only missed by a few moments, however, didn't make her laugh. "Please call me back. Just tell me you're ok."_

_ She called him immediately, feeling like shit for not having had the phone on._

_ "Abby?" He sounded hopeful. And scared._

_ "I'm fine. The doctor was running late and he kept me in there a long time. I was going to call."_

_ "Thank god. I was worried."_

_ No matter how many times she saw him open up, she wasn't sure it would ever stop being a shock – not after fourteen years of him denying he felt anything for anyone besides anger. "Who are you and what have you done with El- Ben?"_

_ He chuckled at her joke and her slip. "What did he say?"_

_ She found herself grinning as she decided that their fight was over once again. "I'm alive. That's all you get until you get home."_

_ "Come on, tell me." There was disappointment in his voice, telling her that he was still going to be late._

_ "Do you have to go out for drinks every night?" She understood his desire to fit in with his new peers, but she didn't think it was necessary to go out quite that often._

_ "It's not drinks, I swear. I'll explain when I get home. Hold on a second." His voice sounded again, words that meant nothing directed at someone else. "I have to go. I'll see you a little after six."_

_ The line was dead before she could even respond._

_ Her phone rang at a quarter after six. She'd been sitting on the sofa, watching television, munching on the salt-free pretzels that just weren't as good as regular ones and being in a generally good mood. The minute the phone rang, however, she felt a homicidal rage bubbling up._

_ "This had better be a good fucking excuse or I'm tossing all your clothes on the lawn and burning them." There was no use mincing words. Honesty was her new policy._

_ "I'll be there in ten minutes. Traffic was a fucking nightmare. Be ready to go when I get there."_

_ She stared at the muted TV as though it would explain something to her. "Go where? There is exactly no chance of me looking decent in ten minutes."_

_ "That's ridiculous. You always look beautiful."_

_ It took her a moment to process his words. She was completely unprepared for such a compliment and so, decided to be wary. "What are you up to?"_

_ "I'm through the gate, just be ready to go. They close at seven."_

_ "Obviously you're not taking me to dinner, so again, where is it that we're going?" She hoped jeans and a polo shirt were good enough, because she didn't have enough time to change._

_ "It's a surprise."_

_ "I'm still tempted to burn all your clothes," she quipped before she hung up. She stood up and dusted the crumbs off her lap. The house was still so new it didn't feel like hers and very little inside belonged to them anyway, so she was pretty much always ready to go. Slipping her pink, rhinestone-encrusted wallet in her pocket, she grabbed her keys and stepped out onto the porch._

_ "Nice timing," he called to her as he pulled up._

_ Climbing into the seat beside him, she tried to make sense of the smile on his face. "So what's the surprise?"_

_ "I'll tell you when we get there." He grinned as he backed halfway into the driveway to turn the Jeep around. Then he reached over to squeeze her hand. "I'm glad you're ok."_

_ The clock on the radio read 6:42 when Elliot pulled the Jeep into a parking lot of a rundown building at the far end of an industrial park. Olivia looked around as she got out, wracking her brain to try to guess what the hell he had up his sleeve. Elliot took her hand and dragged her toward the door, saying nothing._

_ The only clue, besides the alarming sound of disgruntled barking she noticed, was a small hand-painted sign tacked next to the door. Tri-County Dog Rescue._

_ He looked at her with his perma-grin still in place. "It doesn't look like much and it smells bad, but one of the guys I work with said they've got a good reputation." He pulled open the door and pulled her inside. "Besides, they have your dog." He corrected himself before she could dispute his claim. "I mean the perfect dog for you."_

_ Olivia raised an eyebrow. She'd only been half serious about getting a dog. She wasn't really all that fond of them, or of pets in general really. Choking on the overpowering stench, she stopped letting Elliot lead her. "Honestly, I'm more of a cat person."_

_ Elliot shook his head, tugging at her hand again. "You have to see this dog. He's perfect. You cannot possibly feel unsafe with him in the house."_

_ The guy at the counter, who looked rather like a dog himself with unkempt hair and a long beard, greeted Elliot like they were old friends. "Hey there Ben! You brought the wife!"_

_ "Moose is still here, right?"_

_ "Moose?" Olivia looked at Elliot. "Maybe we should think about this."_

_ Elliot turned to her, his grin fading finally. "Moose has been here for almost a year. He's going to get put down tomorrow if he doesn't get adopted."_

_ Which explained Elliot's desperation to get there before they closed at seven. She wanted to hug him. Well, she wanted to hug him for the thought. For dragging her into a situation where the guilt was liable to kill her, however…_

_ "That's terrible, but I really don't know-"_

_ Jesse, as his shirt proclaimed, jumped in. "Don't worry, ma'am. You're not obligated if you look at him."_

_ Elliot squeezed the hand he was still holding. "Just look at him, Abby. If you don't think he's perfect, we'll go home."_

_ Jesse and Elliot lead her into the back, past the crate after crate of small yipping dogs, past cage after cage of larger barking dogs. As she expected, Olivia felt horrible as she saw their little faces and she wanted to save them all. People were more terrible to animals than they were to children. It was one of the reasons she'd never wanted a pet – because she'd wind up one of those crazy people with eleven parrots and sixty-some bunnies who didn't understand that her house smelled bad._

_ Jesse started talking and Olivia concentrated on his words rather than the pathetically hopeful barks of dogs who were asking for attention. "We're usually a no-kill shelter. We try our best to keep every dog that we get, but Moose, well, there's just been no interest in him at all because of his size and we only get so much in donations and he just eats and eats and eats. We can't afford to feed him anymore. Besides, it's not fair to keep him pent up and there's nowhere else to put him."_

_ As they neared the end of the building, Olivia started to wonder what the hell kind of dog was too big for a dog rescue organization to house and feed. _

_ Leaning towards Elliot, she whispered, "He's not actually a moose, is he?"_

_ Elliot's grin was all she got._

_ "This here is Moose, ma'am. Your husband seemed to think he'd be the right dog for you."_

_ Jesse was not a little man. He was about Elliot's height and considerably heavier, though most of his weight was settled around his gut rather than in muscles._

_ And standing up on his hind legs against the gate that had bent, no doubt due to Moose's massive body, was Moose. With his front paws resting above Jesse's shoulders._

_ "Jesus Christ, is that a horse?"_

_ Jesse chuckled at her._

_ Elliot motioned toward the enormous dog. "That's Moose. Isn't he great?"_

_ Olivia opened her mouth to respond that Elliot was out of his fucking mind, but Moose had dropped back onto all-fours and stepped toward her. He cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows moving together and up in the middle, as though he meant to ask her a question with his huge brown eyes. His face, from above his eyes to down below his snout, was black, his ears as well. The rest of him was a light tan color. As big as he was, he was still adorable. She suddenly and completely understood why people were such suckers for puppy-dog eyes._

_ She stepped forward, reaching out her hand before she paused and looked at Jesse. "Does he bite?"_

_ "Hell no, he's a teddy bear. He looks scary, but he wouldn't hurt a fly."_

_ Moving her hand the rest of the way toward the gate, Olivia realized Elliot was right. Moose was precisely the sort of dog that would make her feel safe. As soon as she touched the gate, Moose turned toward her hand, sniffing it for a second before licking her._

_ She giggled at the sensation. Actually giggled._

_ "See? He likes you, Abby." Elliot was smiling, obviously feeling vindicated. "I'd be comfortable leaving you alone if Moose was there."_

_ She couldn't help but make a face at Elliot. "Really?" It was all she had in her not to cry bullshit at him, but she was trying to remain polite in front of a stranger._

_ Elliot pointed at the "fact sheet" attached to Moose's cage, indicating Moose's weight which at over two-hundred pounds was more than Elliot's own. _

_ She looked at Moose, meeting his eyes again. "Hi, Moose." _

_ She shrieked and jumped back when Moose sprang up on his back legs, and barked. It was a deep, intimidating sort of sound, more like a warning than a greeting._

_ "Aw, don't be scared, he only does that with people he likes. He wants to give you a kiss is all." Jesse reached for something that was hanging from a hook beside Moose's door. He pointed at Moose and squeezed. Moose whimpered and immediately dropped back to all-fours, ducking his head down. Jesse smiled. "Shock collar. You take Moose off our hands, we'll throw it in for free."_

_ Olivia snatched the thing out of his hand without even thinking. "You're electrocuting him? That's horrible!"_

_ "It's just a little shock, ma'am, doesn't hurt him, just reminds him he's misbehaving."_

_ Olivia wished she could shoot the man to remind him that, in her eyes, he was misbehaving. Instead she looked behind her at all the dogs. "Do you use those collars on all of them?" She was horrified, the urge to save them all returning._

_ Jesse shook his head. "No, Moose is the only one. Two hundred pound dog starts barking and you have to control it. Otherwise people get scared and Moose gets put to sleep."_

_ Mollified somewhat, Olivia decided the other dogs were safe. "But he's getting put to sleep tomorrow, isn't he?" She felt terrible saying it, even more so when Moose turned back to her, his eyebrows moving up again like he understood her words._

_ "We've got to take him to the SPCA tomorrow. And they don't like the big dogs because they don't get adopted as easily, so they'll most likely put him right to sleep."_

_ She felt like crap. Absolute crap. And she really wanted to deck Elliot for putting her in that position._

_ "Abby, it's ok. If you don't want him, maybe someone else will adopt him." Elliot put his hand on her back, rubbing his thumb against her gently. "I wasn't trying to put you in a tough position. I thought you'd like him."_

_ Reaching out again, she wiggled her fingers and was rewarded by Moose rubbing his snout against her. "Can I pet him?" As Jesse moved toward the lock, she panicked. "Will he jump up on me?"_

_ Jesse shook his head. "Naw, he knows better. He only does that on the gate." He unhooked the padlock. "He's really gentle, likes to lay around, he's a lazy bones."_

_ As Jesse opened the door, Olivia was tempted to hand the shock collar controller back. She had no way of gauging how true Jesse's words were. If Moose jumped on her, she'd probably wind up in the hospital. Expecting the giant beast to run for his life the moment freedom presented itself, Olivia backed up behind Elliot. Moose would be able to knock him down easily enough, but Elliot would provide her some protection in the process._

_ Rather than making a run for it, Moose stood still. He angled his head toward Olivia and Elliot and then towards his bowl._

_ Jesse laughed. "He thinks it's dinner time." He patted his leg. "Come on, Moose, say hi."_

_ Moose stepped forward, approaching Elliot first, his head reaching well above Elliot's belt. He gave Elliot a quick sniff, then moved around to Olivia. He sniffed at her, snorted as he glanced up at her face, and then plopped down at her feet, resting his head against her calf._

_ She couldn't help but smile at the way the dog had chosen her, especially since it was their first meeting, but she wondered if that might have been exactly why. She looked at Elliot. "Did he do this with you?"_

_ Elliot shook his head. "He wouldn't even come out."_

_ "Moose is a bum, ma'am," Jesse told her. "Mastiffs would rather sit and watch TV all day than play. I've heard about them living in apartments even."_

_ "He's a Mastiff?" Olivia wasn't sure she'd ever heard of such a breed, but then, she could probably only come up with a handful of dog breeds if she tried. "How old is he? Is he going to get bigger?"_

_ "He's an American Mastiff and he's almost two. He's got a long life ahead of him, but he's full grown." Jesse pulled the paperwork off the door, seemingly satisfied that Moose was being adopted._

_ Elliot glanced at the dog resting happily on Olivia's foot and then met her eyes. "If you'd rather look for another dog, that's fine."_

_ "I can't, Ben. I can't leave him." She didn't even know where the words came from. They were just there. And they were true. She wanted Moose. She looked down at the dog. "And I can't feel my foot either."_

_ Jesse smiled. "Come on, Moose, looks like you got yourself a mama!"_

_ Moose lifted his head, but didn't move._

_ Olivia's heart dropped, thinking that as much as she already loved the dog, she would never be able to train him. If he didn't follow commands, there was no way she'd be able to take him. Hell, she wouldn't be able to move her foot out from under him without Elliot's help._

_ Elliot tried next, seeing the disappointment in her face. "Moose, move it."_

_ Moose seemed moderately more interested, lifting his front half up onto his paws and looking at Elliot._

_ Olivia took the opportunity to move her feet, stepping away from her gigantic friend. She opened her mouth to give him one last chance, but she didn't get a word out. Elliot was laughing, Jesse was smiling, Moose was at her side, leaning lightly against her leg._

_ She looked down. "You coming with me?"_

_ Moose woofed at her._

_ She shrugged at Elliot. "I guess we're adopting Moose."_

_ Elliot snickered. "I think Moose adopted you."_

_ She narrowed her eyes. "Whatever happens, this is all your fault, ok?"_

_ Elliot only smiled._

_ Jesse nodded toward Moose. "Leaning on you is a way of showing dominance. Shove him back, let him know you're in charge." He smiled. "It's good to start out on the right foot."_

_ Olivia did as she was instructed, using her knee to push Moose lightly. Moose shifted away, but two steps later, he was leaning on her again, pushing enough that she was about to trip. She shoved him again, a bit harder. He took the hint that time, opting to walk beside her._

_ As they were filling out the requisite paperwork, Moose stayed at her side, jumping up to rest his paws on the counter. Jesse chastised him, but Olivia laughed at the way Moose seemed to be reading over the forms, making sure she was doing the right thing by him. It was a bit awkward when she couldn't remember their address, covering her confusion by patting Moose while waiting for Elliot to take over filling out the forms with the information she couldn't remember._

_ When Elliot handed over the credit card to cover the three-hundred dollar adoption fee, Olivia wondered again what they were getting into. Food, vet bills, toys, whatever the hell a giant dog that was bigger than most men would need would undoubtedly cost a lot of money. And yet, Elliot wasn't the least bit worried about it._

_ She glanced at Elliot, her hand absently scratching Moose's head as though he'd been beside her for years. "Ben, do we really have the money for this?"_

_ "Your safety is worth it," he said with a smile as he glanced at the dog staring intently at Olivia's face. "You'll feel more comfortable with him around, won't you?"_

_ She shrugged, yet she found herself agreeing. "Yeah, I will."_

_ He smiled. "Then it's worth it."_


	52. Chapter 52

Part Fifty-Two

_After_

_ They stopped at the pet store on the way home. They faced the warehouse sized store with Moose between them, armed with the helpful list of things they needed to pick up that Jesse had been kind enough to provide them. Moose was eager and excited, but he stayed at Olivia's side, only pulling the slightest bit on the leash._

_ Elliot grabbed a cart, shrugging at Olivia's curious expression. "He's a big dog, Liv, whatever we buy for him is going to have to be huge."_

_ A twinge of guilt tugged at the smile that had been in place since Elliot had signed the forms officially adopting Moose. "Expensive too, I bet."_

_ Elliot offered a reassuring smile. "Still worth it to make you feel safe." He reached over and patted Moose's head. "Besides, it'll be nice having someone else around the house. It's too quiet in there."_

_ More guilt piled on, but she said nothing. He was missing his kids, his wife, the life in his house that he was used to, the life that she didn't provide. She could only hope that Moose would help make up some of the difference. Although Moose was supposed to be there for her comfort, she knew from Elliot's eagerness to get him, that Elliot would enjoy having a child of sorts to take care of. _

_ She pointed to the sign in the shape of a dog hanging from the metal beams of the roof. "Looks like the dog stuff is over there."_

_ Her suspicion was proved correct as soon as they made it into the first aisle. Elliot picked up two dog toys and stood before Moose. "Which one do you want, buddy?"_

_ Moose seemed to consider the question quite carefully, tilting his head to the side and knitting his eyebrows together. Olivia giggled as Moose reached out to tentatively take the blue plastic squirrel from Elliot's hand. When Elliot let go, Moose bit into it harder, breaking the toy in two pieces._

_ A blush rose to Elliot's cheeks as Olivia laughed harder. "I guess we'll have to find something more durable, huh?"_

_ Deciding to see just how bright Moose was, Olivia held out her hand. "Hand it over, Moose."_

_ She was shocked as hell when Moose deposited the broken toy into her hand one piece at a time. She placed the slobbery plastic in the cart before turning back to Moose. "Let's not taste anything else until we're sure we want to buy it, ok?" Moose just stared._

_ Elliot had moved further down the aisle, engrossed in reading the backs of various packages. When he noticed Olivia's stare, he shrugged. "I'm trying to find something rated for a two-hundred pound dog. There don't seem to be a lot of options."_

_ "Maybe we should ask someone." She didn't particularly want to deal with an excessively happy salesperson, but judging by the size of the store, she knew if they didn't they could easily be there all night and wind up with a cart full of broken things they'd have to pay for._

_ Elliot only had time to turn to her with a grimace before a man wearing a bright green polo shirt appeared. "You folks need some help?" His face fell as his eyes widened. "Good god, what kind of dog is that?"_

_ Suddenly feeling quite maternal and protective, Olivia pulled Moose into her side and wrapped her arm around his neck. "He's a Mastiff. Isn't he beautiful?"_

_ Lenny, as his nametag read, nodded slowly. _

_ Olivia was amused by his reaction, considering that the man worked in a pet store and must have seen quite a few dogs in his tenure there, and she couldn't resist. "Moose, go say hi to Lenny."_

_ Moose glanced at her and then moved in the direction she was pointing. For every step Moose took, Lenny backed up three._

_ Elliot issued a shrill whistle and patted his thigh. "Come here, boy." Moose immediately responded, happily dropping down to a sitting position at Elliot's feet._

_ Lenny scooted past Elliot and Moose to approach Olivia. "What are you looking for tonight?"_

_ "Everything."_

_ It turned out that Lenny was actually quite knowledgeable about dogs, his fear of them notwithstanding. Three full carts later, they'd loaded up the Jeep and had to lie the back seat flat to have enough room for Moose to fit. Moose preferred the middle row rather than the far back, however, and plopped down comfortably with his head resting on the console between the front seats._

_ They stopped for a pizza on the way back to the house, figuring it was too late to get into trying to cook anything. _

_ "God, that smells really good, doesn't it?" Elliot looked over at her with a contented smile._

_ "Yeah, I guess." Reading his shocked expression, she opened the box. "You want a piece now?"_

_ He nodded. "I'm starving."_

_ "You should have said something. I would have driven." She pulled a piece out of the box, offering it to him._

_ But Elliot was changing lanes and Moose was apparently quite hungry, so rather than Elliot taking the piece, Moose grabbed it from her._

_ "Moose! No!" She shouted at him, realizing that the giant dog might be more difficult to control than Moose had originally let on._

_ Moose ducked his head and dropped the pizza._

_ Elliot laughed. "He might as well have it now."_

_ "Seems wrong to reward him though, doesn't it?"_

_ Moose just stared at the dropped pizza and whimpered._

_ Olivia picked up the slice and shook her finger at Moose. "Don't do that again, Moose, ok?"_

_ Elliot shook his head as she let Moose have the slice. "I'm still hungry, you know."_

_ She narrowed her eyes. "You want me to give him the whole thing?"_

_ "Please hand me another slice?"_

_ "That's better."_

_ When they returned home, Olivia volunteered to take Moose for a quick walk before showing him his new home. The doctor had given her permission, she reminded Elliot when she saw his nervous expression. Elliot was going to have to lug in the heavy bags of dog food from the Jeep anyway. _

_ Mindful of the doctor's warning and her own uncertainty, which she would never allow Elliot to see, she kept the walk extremely short. She only went about two blocks, occasionally waving at the neighbors and catching herself talking to Moose about what a great life he was going to have in a ridiculously silly voice more often than not._

_ She didn't want to admit that she needed the companionship, but she knew she did. Elliot was there to talk to most of the time, but she wasn't used to having him as her only social connection. Moose would make a great sounding board because he wouldn't argue, though he did seem to offer feedback on her thoughts with his constantly moving eyebrows._

_ It wasn't long before she returned to the house, finding that Elliot had managed to put almost everything away. As soon as he was shown his bowls of food and water on the kitchen floor, Moose went to town on both. Elliot had left the collection of toys on the counter, suggesting they could put them outside for Moose to play with in the yard._

_ But the gigantic bed they'd purchased for Moose was sitting in the corner of the living room and it didn't seem right to Olivia._

_ "Can't we put that in one of the bedrooms?"_

_ Elliot shook his head firmly. "Dogs are dirty. They have to be bathed and groomed. You want all your clothes to smell like dog?"_

_ As she was shaking her head, Moose came into the living room, brushing against her leg as he moved to sit between them. She strongly suspected that she was going to smell like dog anyway. "But, it seems mean, doesn't it?"_

_ "He's supposed to guard the house. That's hard to do from upstairs." He reached out, his hand resting on her shoulder. "He'll be fine. He's used to sleeping in that shelter, this probably looks like paradise to him."_

_ Reluctantly, Olivia agreed to try it out. They ate in the den, watching the TV Mark had helped Elliot hook up the previous weekend. Moose tried to climb on the couch with them, but one stern 'no' had him lying on the floor at their feet._

_ It was when they went to bed that Olivia again had misgivings. Moose dutifully followed them upstairs, despite having been shown his bed and told to sit and stay repeatedly. Olivia wanted to cave as Moose stared at her hopefully, but Elliot closed the door and shook his head at her. A good hour later, Olivia woke up to the sound of Moose making his way back down the stairs. She felt even worse then, thinking that he'd been waiting outside the door all that time, hoping they would let him in._

_ She'd just barely drifted back to sleep when a terrible crash had her sitting up in bed._

_ Elliot was sitting up beside her, his eyes wide and confused from sleep. "What the hell was that?"_

_ Her heart started to pound. "Do you think someone's downstairs?" All the domestic quiet faded from her mind as she suddenly recalled the Simonovichs and the price on their heads. She was reaching for her phone, ready to dial Stafford's number to send out a distress call, when Elliot's hand folded over hers._

_ "It's probably just Moose, right?"_

_ She nodded hopefully and sorely missed her gun. She needed to call Stafford anyway – she needed to have a weapon to defend herself. He would just have to find a way to get her one._

_ Elliot stood up and silently crossed to the door, his hand moving toward the knob._

_ "What are you doing?"_

_ He looked at her like she was crazy. "I'm going downstairs to see what that was."_

_ "What if it's not safe?" She didn't like sounding like the scared wife, cowering in bed in fear. A gun apparently went a long way toward making her brave._

_ Reading her mind as always, Elliot crept back to the bed. "Why didn't we demand guns from Stafford?"_

_ She shrugged. "Too many other things on our minds?"_

_ "I'm going downstairs."_

_ "And you're leaving me here? What if someone snuck upstairs while we were talking?"_

_ Elliot rolled his eyes, his lack of concern doing a hell of a lot to calm her nerves. "Do you want to come with me?" He didn't wait for her answer before he started for the door again._

_ "No!" Despite her words, she pulled back the blanket and joined Elliot._

_ "I thought you didn't want to come."_

_ She shrugged back. "I don't want to stay here either."_

_ Elliot reached for the door knob again, carefully easing open the door and leading the way to the first floor. Scary as it was, she felt more familiar and comfortable than she had in months. She was used to being at Elliot's side in dangerous situations, facing the unknown with him. He glanced back at her with a grin and she knew, once again, that they were on the same page. He missed it too._

_ She again felt a pang of guilt for having taken him away from the life he loved. She could do nothing more than hope that part of what he loved about it was being with her; it was certainly a huge part of what she loved so much._

_ The first thing amiss was the dog bed, the one that Elliot had placed in the living room, which had been relocated to the bottom of the steps. Elliot shrugged at her and she bit back a snicker. Moose must have wanted to be closer to them, but he seemed to have realized that wasn't where he was supposed to be since he wasn't lying on it._

_ A quick sweep of the living room and dining room revealed everything just as they'd left it. Upon entering the den, they spotted Moose, who was sitting on the couch, chewing away happily on something. He looked back at them, lazily checking to make sure they weren't intruders before going back to his chew toy._

_ "Moose, get off the couch!" Elliot wasn't happy when his sleep was interrupted and Olivia was quite glad he was angry at Moose rather than her for waking him._

_ Moose stood up and reluctantly flopped onto the floor, dragging his toy with him._

_ Except his toy wasn't one of the brightly colored thing Olivia remembered buying him. "What's he eating?" When Elliot shrugged, Olivia decided to see exactly how obedient Moose was. "Moose, bring it here." Moose looked at her so she crooked her finger and stared back at him._

_ Moose trotted over and dropped the clear plastic object at her feet, then looked up at her and waited for further instructions._

_ Olivia bent down, picking up the slobbery chew toy and offering it to Elliot. "What is this?"_

_ "The blender?" He took it from her and examined the thoroughly deformed pitcher. "Yeah, it's the blender."_

_ "Guess it's a good thing I don't blend things." Satisfied there was no intruder, Olivia led the way to the kitchen. The rest of the blender was strewn across the floor, the base dangling from the electrical socket. All of Moose's toys were on the floor as well, leaving Olivia to stare accusingly at Elliot._

_ "Don't look at me like that. You didn't expect he'd tear apart the kitchen either." Despite his words, Elliot started picking up the mess while Olivia looked on._

_ While he was working on that, Olivia leaned out the doorway. "Moose, come here." Moose readily obeyed, a look on his face that Olivia could have sworn was gloating. She pointed at the counter where Elliot was reassembling the ruined blender. "No, bad dog."_

_ Moose dropped his head and slowly lowered himself to the floor, leaving Olivia to feel guilty for having corrected him._

_ Elliot motioned to the toys on the floor. "I guess I might as well leave them there. I don't think there's anywhere he won't be able to reach them."_

_ "Maybe we should just let him sleep in the bedroom."_

_ Elliot shook his head. "Not a chance. I don't negotiate with terrorists."_

_ "He's not a terrorist. He wanted his toys." Olivia looked at Moose, who was eyeing a red rubber toy but not making a move toward it. She kicked it over to him and he started chewing happily. "He doesn't know any better. You wouldn't leave a baby loose in the house without anything to play with!"_

_ "I don't negotiate with children either. I'm in charge. They obey."_

_ Olivia tried to bite back her snicker, but failed entirely. "Whatever you say, macho man," she muttered as she patted his shoulder. "I'm going to bed."_

_ Olivia tried like hell to sleep through Elliot's alarm, the ridiculous amount of noise he made getting dressed while trying to be quiet, and the sounds of him talking to Moose. After Moose's little stunt, it had taken hours for her to fall back to sleep. But once Elliot shouted up to her from the bottom of the steps that he was taking Moose out for a run, she gave up entirely on sleep._

_ Her eyes were half closed as she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. While a shower normally was enough to wake her, unless the water was caffeinated, she needed coffee first today. She put on enough water for Elliot to have a cup when he came back and made herself a bowl of cereal while she waited for it to brew. She was glad Elliot had taken Moose with him for his run because it took the pressure off her to walk their new family member. The doctor wanted her to walk, but she intended to take it slowly if only to avoid any setbacks. This way she could go for a short walk later, with or without Moose, and not have to worry about him having an accident._

_ By the time she finished her breakfast, she felt slightly more awake and headed back upstairs for her shower. A nice hot shower would loosen up the muscles that had tensed from not getting enough rest. She took a long time, cranking the water a bit hotter each time she acclimated to it until it was steaming hot. _

_ When she was done, she felt like she'd had a wonderful full-body massage. She turned off the water, grabbed a towel from the rack, and wrapped herself up as she stepped into the steamy room._

_ "I was just about to send a search party in for you."_

_ She shrieked at the unexpected voice, jumping back and slamming herself into the wall, damn near dropping her towel. No matter how many times they'd kissed and more, no matter that she'd flashed him repeatedly that night in the hotel, no matter the number of years she'd known the man, she hadn't expected to find him in the bathroom while she was showering._

_ He turned from the mirror to flash her a grin, his razor poised halfway between the sink and his shaving cream covered face. "You're a little jumpy."_

_ She swallowed hard and tried to keep her eyes on his face so she wouldn't drool over his shirtless chest, at least not while she was mad at him. "I'm not jumpy. You should have waited until I was finished. What if I'd come out without a towel?"_

_ As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back, grab them right out of the air before they could reach his ears._

_ His grin grew wider as his eyes raked over her body as though he'd only just noticed her state of undress. "I wouldn't have minded that either."_

_ It sent a shiver running through her frame to hear him blatantly flirting with her like that, but she didn't want him to see how seriously she took it. Fixing a disapproving glare on her face, she held his eyes. "Knock next time."_

_ He rolled his eyes and turned back to wipe the steam from the mirror. "I'm not going to be late for work because little miss unemployed is hogging the shower."_

_ "There's another shower down the hall, you know, next to your room." She hadn't intended to get into an argument about it, but his implication that he was more deserving of the bathroom was asking for it._

_ "We're married. We can share a bathroom. You don't have anything I haven't seen before." He seemed totally disinterested as she shook his razor in the milky-colored water filling the sink. "Besides, all my stuff is in here."_

_ She swallowed hard, hating how very little and meaningless his dismissal of her body made her feel. His flirtatious statement must have meant absolutely nothing to him, not with the way he was so quick to drop the entire topic. "We're not married," she whispered, more afraid of reminding him of the facts than of anyone overhearing._

_ "Yes, we are." He turned from the mirror to meet her eyes. "We agreed to this. We agreed to be together and stay together forever or for however long it lasts, come hell or high water. We are married."_

_ The intensity in his eyes, in his face, in his whole body at that moment was far more than she expected. His words, words that he'd delivered with such utter vehemence that she had no choice but to believe he meant them, rocked her to her core. She hadn't expected such a reaction from him, not when most of his behavior and even his own words when he'd been drinking had led her to believe otherwise._

_ If there was one thing in her new life that she had been relatively certain about it was that their sham of a marriage meant absolutely nothing to Elliot; hell, he'd even said as much a few days earlier. And in a few sentences, he'd turned that notion on its head, leaving her to feel as confused and lost as ever. She turned the concept over in her mind, trying to make headway with understanding it. He was sober. He was wide awake. With her experience in reading him, she'd swear he'd meant every word of it._

_ She stared at him in shock, unsure how the hell he could be so certain when he was already married. He already had a wife, a real one, one he'd chosen freely. And yet, there he was, declaring they were married. Really. Maybe it hadn't started out that way, maybe neither of them had meant for it to happen, but they were married. It was too much to absorb, to understand._

_ She turned and fled the overwhelmingly hot room, looking for somewhere where the air wasn't so damn thick as to choke her. But as she reached the hallway, she realized she had no place to go. There was no escaping the confusion or the devastation that would certainly follow if she were to believe his words._

_ Turning around, she stepped back into the bedroom, lowered her shaking body onto the bed, and stared at the carpeting. She knew exactly how seriously Elliot took marriage and, even though he had another wife back in New York, he was obviously expecting something from their relationship._

_ The man seemed to be arguing either side depending on the day, leaving her to feel bewildered if she tried to make sense of it. She didn't want to believe he was doing it on purpose, but she couldn't believe he didn't have some idea that he was contradicting himself. There had to be some reason behind his changing mind, one that he wasn't bothering to let her know._

_ She didn't have a fucking clue what to do with that._


	53. Chapter 53

Part Fifty-Three  
_After_

_It was pure luck, for which Olivia wanted to thank God or her lucky stars or whatever was responsible, that her phone rang before Elliot emerged from the shower. It wasn't just that it spared her from having to talk to Elliot right then, but that the call from Kathy also took her mind off the conversation with Elliot._

_Being offered the position wasn't much of a shock, she'd expected to get it from the interview, but she was happy to accept it, eager to get herself a little something to prevent Elliot from ever calling her 'little miss unemployed' again. It was an afterthought, one that she only had after Kathy brought up her health again, that she would have to talk to Dr. DeMarco once more before she could officially take the job. There'd been so much going on, both emotionally and physically, that she'd almost forgotten about her kidney._

_Hell, with Elliot sleeping in the same bed, her nightmares had gone away, and she had moments where she forgot entirely she'd ever had another life than being married to Elliot._

_Which, she decided, must have been what he was thinking about in the bathroom. _

_As long as they focused on the ordinary things of getting food and cleaning the house and living day-to-day, they didn't think about the reality of the current situation. Playing house and pretending to be normal was a lure, but it wasn't safe. If she wanted to stay alive and healthy, she'd have to be more vigilant._

_Once she was off the phone, she hurried to get dressed, realizing she needed to catch Elliot before he left. She found him in the kitchen having breakfast. As much as she knew she needed to stop treating Ben and Abby's lives as though they actually existed, there was one thing she had to clear up before they got caught telling different stories – keeping Ben and Abby looking real was important for keeping Elliot and Olivia alive after all._

_She'd already eaten, so she leaned against the refrigerator across the room from where Elliot was eating at the counter. Moose got up from Elliot's feet, crossed to Olivia, and plopped back down, giving her the impression that moving that huge hulking body was incredibly exhausting. She patted his head and broke the silence while looking at the dog rather than her husband of sorts._

_"We should come up with a reason why we don't have kids."_

_Elliot's silence drew her eyes up from Moose. He was staring at her, shell-shocked, pain reflecting in his eyes. She knew without a word from him that he was thinking about his children, about his instinctive answer that he had a whole gaggle of kids already._

_She swallowed hard. "That was Kathy on the phone. She offered me the job-"_

_"That's good. Congratulations." It was hard for him to stay, she could tell, but she appreciated that he was trying, that he recognized he was supposed to be supportive, even if his reasons for wanting her not to work weren't necessarily as altruistic as he would have her believe. He was an alpha male; he wanted to be the provider, the protector, which was hard to do when she was able to take care of herself._

_"We're teachers and we like kids, so it's probably reasonable that she'll wonder why I'm married with no kids." She nodded at the wall separating the duplex. "Allyson already asked if we had kids. I just want to make sure we've got the same story. For our cover. We don't want to have to move because of something little like that."_

_"Makes sense." He nodded, studying his cereal for a moment in an attempt to hide his discomfort. "You could just say that I can't have them or something."_

_The topic was as upsetting to him as she'd initially feared and she hated watching his face contort with pain. But she recognized that he was trying to protect her, even though the idea of saying he couldn't have children was stabbing him through the heart. As always, when he wasn't able to take care of his babies, he was opting to take care of her. She wanted to hug him, but she suspected that would upset him more._

_"No, I'll say I can't." When his eyes darted up to meet hers, she felt her mouth curve up in a soft smile. "I don't think I can claim you can't have kids with a straight face."_

_He smiled back, recognizing and appreciating her attempt to diffuse the conversation with humor. "Well, you could say we haven't gotten around to it, but we're working on it." He stood up to put his bowl in the sink, casually throwing his next words over his shoulder as he rinsed it clean. "And, you know, we could actually work on it. See what happens."_

_There wasn't even any steam in the room to blame for her sudden choking fit. She didn't know how he could be so relaxed and confident when saying something like that, when he had a family already that he certainly hoped to see again. She also didn't know how, after so god damned many years of knowing him and his flirtatious ways, that she was still able to get so flustered when he teased her._

_"We adopted a baby already, Ben," she used the name to distance herself, to remind him they were supposed to be playing. She scratched at Moose's head again, loving that there was something else to look at just then. "I'm sure another baby would be a really bad idea right now."_

_Elliot snickered. "There are worse ones." He smiled at her, looking at her as though he hadn't purposely thrown her for a loop before he headed for the door. "I'll call you later."_

_Olivia took Moose for two short walks over the next few hours to help break up the monotony of her day. The more time she spent with nothing better to do than surf the internet, the more tempted she was to do the very thing she'd counseled Elliot against – look for their obituaries or even just scour the newspapers for mention of anyone she knew. Therefore, having Moose to walk was a welcome diversion. _

_Not only did it both get her out of the house and allow her some exercise, it also allowed her to investigate her surroundings and even to meet some of her neighbors. Everyone she encountered marveled at Moose and asked questions – what sort of dog he was, if he was friendly, how much he weighed. Olivia delighted in sharing the bit she knew about her new baby, who spent any time they weren't walking gazing up at her adoringly. At least, she decided it was adoringly, although she realized it was mostly likely she who was staring adoringly. She'd never had a pet before, but she imagined it was as close to being a mother as she would ever be._

_When they returned from their second walk, Olivia was getting tired. She put Moose out in the back yard with some of his toys. It was an hour or so after lunch, right around the time Elliot usually called and she was ready to answer the phone. She didn't want to scare him, not after he'd been so thoughtful as to find the perfect dog for her._

_She surprised herself when he called, inquiring if he wanted to try cooking dinner with her. Elliot seemed a bit surprised as well, falling silent for a moment before he agreed. He told her to pick out something good for them to make because his lunch had been less than appetizing. _

_By the time Elliot arrived home, she'd decided on lasagna and had the ingredients lined up on the counter. He was intimidated, she could tell by the moment of hesitation before he stepped into the kitchen. But it was only a moment, and it was immediately followed by a smirk._

_"So, we're going to learn to cook?"_

_Olivia couldn't keep a mirrored smirk from appearing on her face. "Unless you want me to die from all the unhealthy shit we've been eating or you'd prefer to starve."_

_He looked around like he was searching for something. "I don't have to wear an apron, do it?"_

_Laughing at the idea, she turned to the refrigerator to retrieve the beef and cheese. "I'm going to buy you one. A pink one."_

_"Just make sure it has lots of ruffles." He picked up the cookbook and started looking over the recipe._

_It took a little less than five minutes for the peace to be interrupted. First, there were muffled shouts, then louder, still muffled shouts, then a door slamming, a series of loud crashes, and finally, Moose's deafening roar at the back door. Barely audible over the barking, hysterical sobssimultaneously sounded from the front of the house._

_Elliot glanced at the front door and then nodded at the back. "I'll take Moose."_

_Olivia rolled her eyes. "Lucky me." _

_Wiping her hands on her pants, she made her way to the front door and pulled it open. Allyson was sitting on the front steps, her head in her hands, sobbing. Olivia's guard immediately went up, looking around and expecting to find an irate Mark charging and ready to strike. But he was nowhere around. In lieu of that, she figured when she sat down next to Allyson and saw the other woman's face, there would be a black eye or split lip. It was almost startling to find Allyson's eyes red from crying, but otherwise unmarked._

_"What's wrong? Did something happen?" Olivia carefully patted Allyson's shoulder, testing to see if she would lash out or if she wanted the comfort of an arm around her shoulders._

_Allyson's hysterical tears receded so fast that Olivia wondered how real they had been. "Mark's getting shipped out."_

_"Oh, I'm so sorry, Allyson." She remembered the terrified way she'd felt when she'd thought it was a possibility for Elliot and her heart ached for the woman beside her. "That's terrible news."_

_She nodded and sniffled. "I don't mind so much if he has to go overseas, but I told him I wanted a baby before he left and he said no." A fresh wave of tears spilled over her cheeks and she dramatically buried her face on Olivia's shoulder._

_The fact that she didn't care about her husband going somewhere potentially dangerous was strange, but Olivia gave her the benefit of the doubt. "Maybe he's just afraid to be so far away while you're pregnant. Some dads like to be close during pregnancy." Once again, the issue brought Elliot and his kids to mind and she wondered if he didn't want to break down sobbing over it._

_Allyson lifted her head and sighed. "We've talked about it a million times. He doesn't want kids."_

_The response, coupled with Allyson's outburst that seemed more and more fake by the second, annoyed Olivia. She'd been happily flirting and cooking, or trying to cook, with Elliot until Allyson had gotten all bent out of shape over something she apparently already knew. Still, she bit back her irritation and rubbed her neighbor's back. "Maybe he'll change his mind someday." She offered a friendly smile, thinking the idea of her husband leaving was probably just overwhelming her sense at the moment. "We're here if you need anything while Mark's away."_

_Allyson's eyes lit up. "Ben's not getting shipped out?"_

_"Um, I guess not. He didn't say anything." _

_Her face fell again. "They were notified today. Maybe he hasn't told you yet."_

_Suddenly, Olivia was quite tempted to kick the woman off her porch so she could question Elliot. He'd said he wouldn't go. He'd said they'd go back to Stafford if such an order came up. But Allyson was right – Elliot might just not have found the time to tell her._

_"Is everything ok out here?" Elliot's voice came from the doorway behind them as he cautiously stepped out onto the porch, faithful Moose trailing behind him._

_Olivia stood up, hoping Allyson would leave so she could pester Elliot with questions._

_Allyson stood as well, answering before Olivia could get the chance. "Mark's going to Iraq. I don't know what I'll do without him! I'll be all alone in the house." Olivia wanted to call her on her change of heart from wanting a baby to missing her husband, but she remained silent._

_Elliot patted Moose's head. "You could adopt a dog. Abby and I picked out Moose here last night so she wouldn't be alone when I'm not here."_

_Allyson's eyes widened and she leapt to Elliot's side, clinging to his arm in ridiculously overstated terror. "What if he attacks me?"_

_Elliot chuckled while trying to extract his arm. "He won't."_

_She gave chase, stepping closer to Elliot as he tried to step away. "But you'll protect me, won't you? If he does?"_

_Rather than brushing off the drama queen as Olivia expected, Elliot finally reached out and tucked his arms around her shoulder. "Yeah, you're ok. We'll be right here if you need anything."_

_Olivia wanted to take heart in the assurance that Elliot wasn't going anywhere, but she was too busy rolling her eyes at how easily Allyson had snookered him into protecting her. Elliot was her husband. Technically, Ben was Abby's husband, but still, it pissed her off to see him touching another woman. The last thing she wanted was to have Allyson fawning all over Elliot all the time._

_Luckily the front door of the other house opened, revealing an angry-looking Mark. "Are you coming back- Oh, sorry, I didn't realize-" He stopped abruptly when he discovered his wife had gone running to the neighbors._

_"We were just getting dinner ready, we should probably get back to it." Olivia grabbed the chance that presented itself, insinuating herself at Elliot's other side. "Honey, the food's going to burn."_

_Elliot looked at her curiously, knowing they hadn't gotten nearly to the oven part of the recipe, but he followed her lead as usual. "Come on, Moose, inside." He patted Allyson's shoulder again and nodded at Mark. "I was just telling Allyson she can count on us while you're in Iraq."_

_Olivia didn't wait to hear Mark's response. "Ben, the food." She tugged on Elliot's arm and pulled him back inside the house._

_He had the sense to wait until they were back in the kitchen with the door closed and the neighbors far enough away not to overhear. "What the hell was that about?"_

_Rolling her eyes, she pretended to be fascinated by the instructions. "I think we're supposed to sprinkle the cheese next." She picked up a handful of grated cheese and then dropped it. "Wait, no, I think it's the tomato sauce."_

_"Abby?" Elliot moved in front of her. "What the hell?"_

_"I don't like her." She didn't even know where it came from, but she realized it was true as the words left her mouth. "She was crying to me about how Mark didn't want kids and then you appear and she's afraid of being without Mark?"_

_Elliot shrugged. "She probably figured I wouldn't want to talk about Mark wanting kids."_

_Olivia batted her eyelashes and put the back of her hand to her forehead in her best Scarlett O'Hara impression. "Oh, Ben, will you protect me from my overly dramatic ways?"_

_Starting to catch on, Elliot smiled. "Yeah, ok, I was hoping that I was imagining that."_

_"No such luck. Without Mark around…" She let her words trail off, moving past Elliot to get back to the cookbook. "Back to attempting to cook?"_

_"Uh, maybe not."_

_Looking back, Olivia was surprised to see Elliot shaking his head. They'd been having a good time together and they even seemed to agree that Allyson was trouble. Following his gaze, however, she saw Moose, chewing away on the ground beef they'd been planning to put in the lasagna. _

_Elliot sighed. "Maybe we should keep things off the kitchen counter unless we want him to eat them." Then he turned back and looked at the cookbook. "How about cheese lasagna?"_

_With a grin, Olivia began putting away the things they'd already used in the hopes that it would limit the number of things they'd have to keep from Moose. "Let me find you an apron."_

_Dinner turned out better than Olivia expected, considering they made it without the beef they were supposed to include. They watched television for a little while, trying at first to keep Moose off the couch, but eventually giving up and letting him win while they sat squashed together in the tiny spot Moose wasn't hogging. Elliot asked if Olivia wanted to come along with them for a quick walk to try to burn off some of the dog's energy, but, mindful of not pushing herself too hard, she stayed behind. She'd had two walks already; she didn't want to wear herself out before she received permission to go to work._

_Curled on her side in bed, Olivia listened to the sounds of Elliot trying to reason with Moose as they returned from their walk. He was practically shouting before he gave up, stomping up the steps with the loud noise of Moose clambering up behind him. Elliot almost ran into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Olivia giggled at the sight._

_Elliot narrowed his eyes at her. "If he gets in this room, he's going to take over the bed and we'll both be sleeping on the floor."_

_Olivia shrugged, still feeling bad because Moose had to sleep on a cushion on the first floor. "We need a bigger bed."_

_"Our bed is fine." He paid no attention to his remark or to Olivia's reaction. No, he was already stripping down to his boxers and climbing in beside her while Olivia was still marveling at the notion of it being "their" bed._

_As Elliot scooted up behind her, his body pressing against hers, warming her inside and out, she reached over to turn out the light and smiled into the darkness. "Yeah, it is pretty nice."_

_"Told you so," he mumbled into her ear in a voice already thickening with sleep. It wasn't fair how fast the man could fall asleep._

_Especially not when his breath falling against her neck promised to keep her wide awake for quite some time._


	54. Chapter 54

Part Fifty-Four  
_After_

_As much as she didn't like them, she'd more or less grown used to the nightmares._

_So used to them, in fact, that waking up in the middle of the night without one was disconcerting._

_Not nearly so disconcerting that she missed them._

_No, waking up to Elliot's mouth sliding across her throat was infinitely preferable. She kind of wanted to let him continue exactly what he was doing. She definitely enjoyed the way he was kissing and licking and sucking on her neck, but she hadn't had nearly enough opportunities to thoroughly kiss him and so she reached for his chin, guiding his mouth up to hers._

_He offered no resistance, merely accepting her direction and fastening his mouth onto hers. His lips were as soft as she remembered, his mouth hot, his tongue gentle as it parted her lips. She'd died and gone to heaven. She was sure. They hadn't been drinking, they weren't performing in front of an audience, they were adjusting to their new lives together. They were enjoying the benefits of being married._

_It took her breath away when Elliot rolled directly on top of her, his bulk pressing down on her, his erection hard between them. It was the first time she truly contemplated the idea of having sex with him right then. Not in some distant future, not in some vague idea of possibilities or even of interest. No, she thought, it's happening now._

_And she was ok with it._

_The only trouble was that she wanted to know he was ok with it. She needed him to say, despite his claim early that morning that he considered her his wife, that he recognized the act would change everything, their relationship, as well as the relationship he might someday return to with his wife. She couldn't let him make an important decision lost in a hormonal fog that blanked out everything except the thought of having sex._

_She put her hands on his cheeks, pushing his mouth away from hers, trying to catch his eyes. At first, he seemed to think she was simply guiding him elsewhere and let his mouth trail across her cheek, his teeth catching her earlobe and nipping at it while his tongue teased gently._

_Her hands fell away, her back arching into him involuntarily at the exquisite sensation. Her hips rubbed his erection as her legs opened, allowing his body to settle between them. He thrust against her, the feeling unbelievable even through their clothes. His voice was thick as he groaned her name into her ear._

_It took her several minutes to regain any of her senses and remember she wanted to make sure his dick wasn't calling the shots. Not that she minded if it was, she just wanted to make sure he was aware of it. She wanted to stare into his eyes and see them dark with desire for her, with awareness of the step they were taking together._

_But when she finagled his face above hers once again, she couldn't meet his eyes. Because they were closed._

_"El?" Her own voice sounded strange to her ears as she forced herself to speak. "El?"_

_He murmured something, but gave no indication that he even knew what was going on._

_The son of a bitch was sound asleep, having himself a happy little dream._

_The only credit she was willing to give him was that he'd said the right name, though she didn't honestly care what he'd called her. She was too irritated, too disappointed, to frustrated._

_She tried to wiggle out from under him in the hopes he would just go back to his dream world, but he mistook her movements as encouragement and began to slowly rock his hips against hers._

_Groaning at both the cruelty and the feeling, she pushed at him and called his name as loudly as she dared with the paper-thin walls. "Elliot! Wake up!"_

_His eyes snapped open immediately, wide and unguarded and confused as he oriented himself._

_She saw the moment of recognition because his cheeks flushed a bright red. She wanted to say something to make him feel better, as though there was anything to soothe his embarrassment, but she was afraid that with each passing second he might notice the moisture that had accumulated between her legs. She was also rather frightened that her own control might snap and she'd try to lure him to finish what he'd inadvertently started, which, though it might have seemed like a great idea in his dream, probably wouldn't seem so brilliant in reality._

_Unless he'd been serious about them trying for a baby._

_"Jesus, Liv, I'm sorry, I-" He shook his head, averting his eyes and looking like a sheepish puppy._

_"Don't, El." She couldn't lie there under him, their bodies positioned so intimately, and listen to him apologize for touching her._

_"No, Liv, really, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"_

_She cut him off again, pressing her hands into his bare chest. "Just get off me, ok?"_

_His eyes widened further for a moment as the flush crept down his neck. He rolled away quickly, putting as much space as possible between them as he could while still remaining on the bed._

_She felt bad for hurting his feelings, for making it seem like she hadn't been a willing participant. She hated that she'd likely stopped any future attempts from him to snuggle with her. She felt bad for the way his shoulders hunched like he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry._

_She turned onto her side and reached out, brushing her hand carefully against his back. "El-"_

_He jerked away from her touch like she'd burned him, untangling the sheet from his legs and jumping to his feet. "I'm going to sleep in the other room."_

_"Wait, Elliot!"_

_He opened the door, nearly tripping over the enormous dog that was sleeping just outside. "Moose will be here if you get scared."_

_Elliot looked at Moose and pointed back at the bed. "Moose, go."_

_Moose didn't wait for a second invitation, running through the doorway and leaping onto the spot Elliot had occupied. Elliot didn't wait either. He closed the door to her room and she heard his footsteps moving away and then the sound of another door closing. At first she thought it was the door of the guest room, but a moment after that, she heard the water start up and realized he'd gone to take a shower._

_Rationally, she knew the shower was probably to calm his body and possibly even to give himself a chance to think in case she intended to give chase. Still, it felt like an insult, like he didn't want the feel of her to linger._

_Unexpectedly crushed by the interlude, Olivia rolled away from the already snoring dog and tried to go back to sleep._

_In the interest of avoiding an awkward morning, Olivia stayed in bed long after she was awake. Moose was happy to cuddle with her, resting his enormous head on her belly while she stroked him, but as soon as Elliot opened the door and called him for his morning run, Moose forgot any loyalty. She stayed in bed, figuring bumping into Elliot while she was getting out of the shower would only make things worse, but she needn't have worried since he opted for to get ready in the guest bathroom._

_He was obviously as anxious as she was about any weirdness that might exist between them and so Olivia stayed in the bedroom even after she was dressed, waiting to hear the sound of Elliot's Jeep pulling away before she dared venture into the rest of the house._

_Damn him for making her feel bad._

_Damn her for stopping him._

_She was thoroughly surprised a half hour later when her phone rang. The only people who called her were Elliot and Kathy, and she frankly didn't expect to hear from either one. When the caller ID revealed Elliot's office number, she actually debated answering. He'd made it clear he wasn't speaking to her, therefore the only reason he'd be calling would be to start a fight with her._

_Despite what she thought was a legitimate reason to let it go to voice mail, Olivia remembered the acute danger they were perpetually in and reminded herself she didn't have the luxury of avoiding Elliot._

_"Hello?" She hated that her nervous tone revealed her misgivings with taking the call._

_"Is everything ok? Are you all right?" She hated even more that Elliot instantly recognized the distress in her voice even if he had no clue that he was the cause._

_She eyed the kitchen trash can and contemplated kicking her favorite target. "Yeah, I'm fine. What do you want?"_

_He sighed and was silent for a long moment, as always acting like he was the injured party._

_Before he spoke and tried to blame her, she decided to touch on the subject they'd been avoiding. "You know, Ben, I didn't do anything wrong. You have no reason to be angry at me."_

_"What? I'm not angry at you. Why did you think that?" He sounded confused, which she knew he could be faking, but she didn't think he'd bother._

_"You wouldn't talk to me last night and you didn't talk to me this morning. What was I supposed to think?"_

_She could hear him fiddling with something on his desk and her mind instantly drew up an image of him sitting at the desk across from hers at the one-six, nervously playing with paperclips when they were arguing. She nearly cried at the idea that she would never sit across from him like that again._

_"I thought you were mad because of what happened." His voice was soft, laced with an admission of guilt._

_"I am mad because of what happened." Honesty was supposedly the best policy, she figured she'd give it a try._

_"See? That's why I didn't talk to you. Look, I'm really sorry. I-uh-" He stopped for a moment, probably to try to decide how he could apologize without letting anyone else know what they were talking about. "It won't happen again, ok?"_

_Damn it, the last thing she wanted was to chase him back to the other bedroom. She liked falling asleep next to him, knowing he'd be there if she was scared or lonely or cold. "I'm not mad for the reason you think. I'm mad because you wouldn't talk to me."_

_He sighed again, but this time it was sheer frustration. "Abby, I was in no mood to talk last night if you catch my drift."_

_She wanted to chuckle at his inference, but the subject matter didn't allow for that. She didn't want him thinking she was laughing at him. Instead, she stuck with the truth since it seemed to be working. "If you'd bothered to try, Ben, you might have discovered that I really had very little interest in talking either."_

_Elliot was silent. Dead silent. So silent, in fact, she checked to make sure the phone was still connected._

_Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice returning to the thick, raspy one from the night before. "Oh."_

_"Yeah."_

_"In that case," he cleared his throat again and Olivia began to suspect he wished very much he'd talked to her before he went to work. "We need to have a little chat when I get home."_

_Her heart started to pound. Making a plan like that in the sober light of day was frightening. She reminded herself that they were only agreeing to talk, not do anything else. And she knew that, while he'd probably be considerably angry, he wouldn't hold it against her if she changed her mind. "Um, ok."_

_"I'll talk to you later then."_

_She was still staring at the phone thirty seconds later when he called back. With a smirk, she answered it. "Miss me already?"_

_"Always," he chuckled. "Anyway, I forgot to ask you what I originally called to ask. One of the guys is having a barbeque on Friday and his wife needs to know how many people are coming so she can buy the food. Do you want to go?"_

_A summer barbeque. With her husband's coworkers. It sounded so damn mundane she almost laughed._

_Except she was excited too. She hadn't been to one since her childhood. It sounded like fun._

_"Friday? Yeah, that's good." She paused, realizing that perhaps he was looking for an excuse to get out of it. "Unless you don't want to go. Do you?"_

_"I'll tell him we'll be there."_

_She smiled. "Tell him to get extra in case Moose runs off with the grill."_

_"Moose might have to sit this one out."_

_Olivia looked down at the dog sitting by her feet. "I'm not sure we'll still have a house if we leave him here alone."_

_"I'll talk to you later, ok?"_

_"I'll be here." She found herself smiling long after she hung up the phone. No matter how many times she tried to warn herself that it was a bad idea to get her hopes up for what would undoubtedly turn out to be a let's-be-friends-with-benefits conversation, she couldn't help it._

_She was humming._

_Even Moose was looking at her funny._

_She was too happy to care._


	55. Chapter 55

Part Fifty-Five

_After_

_ It felt like forever had come and gone by the time Elliot finally got home. Olivia was waiting for him in the living room, Moose sleeping at her feet. Having spent several hours listening to the what-ifs parading through her brain, she was beyond eager to just have the discussion over. Whatever Elliot had to say wouldn't matter nearly as much as quelling her anxiety over the conversation._

_ "Hey," he offered with a smile as he closed the door behind him. "What's up?"_

_ She shrugged, trying to pretend she wasn't nervous even though she knew Elliot would be able to tell anyway. "Nothing. Just waiting for you to get home."_

_ He stared at her for a long time, the honesty in her words clearly striking him. He swallowed hard. "So no pressure then. I was going to change first-"_

_ Instantly her guard went up. He was trying to get out of it, which meant one of two things – either he didn't want to hurt her feelings or he didn't want to fight with her. Either way, it only served to make her more nervous. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to."_

_ He settled down in the arm chair across from the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. "No, it's not that I don't want to talk. It's more like I don't want to piss you off."_

_ "Why would you piss me off?" As she said it, she steeled herself to hear the let's-just-screw-around-and-have-it-not-mean-anything speech._

_ "Because I didn't tell you something I probably should have told you a long time ago." He sighed and dropped his gaze. He shifted around in the chair, putting his feet back on the floor and leaning forward onto his knees. Finally he looked back at her. "Please don't be mad."_

_ She was already glaring at him and she knew getting angry would only result in him dragging out whatever he had to say, but she couldn't control it. She scooted forward, her legs tensed, ready to spring off the couch and leave the room the moment he said it. "Just spit it out, Elliot."_

_ He winced and then took a deep breath. "Kathy and I split up."_

_ It certainly wasn't the worst news he could have given her. Hell, it wasn't really even that surprising. When they'd been undercover he'd mentioned Kathy wanting to get a divorce again. And it wasn't like they hadn't split up before. "What else?" She waited for the other shoe to drop._

_ He stared back. "What else? That's it. I was in the middle of getting divorced when we got scooped up off the street and I should have told you."_

_ He was right, she realized, because she'd felt so guilty for him having to leave his wife behind. The truth would have helped alleviate that guilt. And the currently failing state of his marriage did give her a better perspective on why he'd been such a jerk in the beginning of the week._

_ She nodded slowly, turning the information over in her head. "So you're really going through with it this time?" Because, she knew, there was nothing like an almost-divorce to really make her want to kill the man._

_ "Oh, yeah, it's over." He said it like he meant it, no hesitation, no wistfulness, no sorrow. It was simply a statement. An accurate one if she was reading him correctly._

_ "What happened? Do you want to talk about it?" There had only been a short couple of months that they weren't speaking. Perhaps he wanted to confide in her about how bad he felt over losing his wife again._

_ He shook his head. "No, it's over. Irreconcilable differences. Nothing she says will ever make me look at her the same way."_

_ If he wasn't trying to pique her curiosity, she didn't know what he was doing. "What did she do? Did she cheat on you?"_

_ He stood up suddenly and took the seat next to her on the couch, his hand folding around hers. "She wanted me to let you die. She thought I should save my kidney for some reason and she couldn't understand why I wouldn't."_

_ Oh fuck._

_ She was the reason he was getting divorced._

_ That was worse than just being fuck buddies._

_ She dropped her face into her hands. "Are you fucking kidding me? You split up over me? Oh, Jesus." She stood up, pulling her hand out of his, practically running across the room._

_ "No, Liv, don't." He followed her, closing the distant between them in a flash, pressing his hands into the wall on either side of her shoulders to keep her from running away. "Wait a minute."_

_ She kept shaking her head, thinking that it might somehow make the words, the facts, go away. But it only seemed to bring the tears faster. She didn't want to cry in front of him. She didn't. Especially not over him._

_ "Look at me." The emotion, the urgency, the desperation in his voice left her no choice but to do as he asked. There was nothing but truth in his eyes as he spoke. "She made me realize that I would stop at nothing to help you, to save you. I wouldn't have done the same for her. I had everything backwards and upside down, but now I know what matters." One of his hands moved to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping at her tears. "Who matters."_

_ "El," her voice cracked and she didn't know what she wanted to say anyway so she stopped._

_ "I couldn't live without you. It was that simple."_

_ He saved her from having to come up with something equally amazing as an answer by kissing her. Really kissing her. Awake, sober, for real, finally. His mouth touched hers with all the intensity his words had held, not waiting even a second before his tongue sought entrance between her lips._

_ Her arms moved up around his shoulders, pulling him closer so he wouldn't have any doubts as to her feelings on the subject. She wasn't so good with words sometimes, but she knew she'd be able to communicate better with her actions. She pressed her hips into his, slipping to the side a bit until one of his legs could move between hers._

_ He groaned his appreciation with the realignment, his hands quickly moving from her face to her waist, pulling her harder against his burgeoning erection. His hands then slipped to the hem of her shirt, moving underneath, brushing against the skin of her sides._

_ And then she was the one groaning, whimpering in pleasure, maybe from the sensation, maybe from the knowledge that one of their heated encounters was finally going to resolve the way nature had intended._

_ His mouth moved from hers, his lips touching her cheek, her jaw, her neck. As he suckled his way down her throat, Olivia rested her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes flitted open for a second, a laugh bubbling out when she saw the curious way Moose was staring at them._

_ Elliot pulled back immediately. "What are you laughing at?"_

_ Olivia nodded toward their dog. "We've got an audience."_

_ Laughing along with her, Elliot nodded in the direction of the stairs. "Should we take this upstairs?"_

_ She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, just teasing his lips with the faintest touch of her own. "Oh, yeah."_

_ She would have liked to take her time, exploring his body, learning every inch of it, enjoying the opportunity to learn the one side of the man she really didn't know, but she was so desperate she feared she might burst if they didn't hurry up and seal the deal before something happened to stop them._

_ Elliot was on the same page, pulling her shirt over her head as soon as they crossed the threshold into the bedroom. He was apparently quite a skilled multi-tasker too, since he was working on taking off his shoes and her belt simultaneously. _

_ Despite her own fears that the house would burn down to stop them, she reached for his frenzied hands, stopping his movements while she worked her belt free on her own. "We've got all night, El."_

_ He froze and looked at her, dumbstruck for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "Yeah, we do, don't we?"_

_ She nodded, moving her hands to the buttons of his shirt as he continued to stare at her. "This has been a long time coming, let's not rush it."_

_ His hands moved up, his fingers curling around her hair, pulling her forward. "I might not be able to not rush." And then his mouth was on hers again, his lips, his tongue, demanding and insistent. While he was kissing her within an inch of her life, he pulled his shirt the rest of the way off and dropped it onto the floor._

_ He turned them, backing her toward the bed without moving his mouth from hers, unhooking her bra and throwing it to the floor as well. He took a moment then, abruptly stopping their kiss, just to look at her. She felt his eyes like a weight moving down her chest, over her breasts, across her stomach. Her cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. She'd gained weight, she'd stopped working out, she was well into middle age. The last thing she wanted was for her lover to change his mind after he got an eyeful of her flab._

_ "Stop." She tried to fold her arms across her middle, her scrawny arms doing a fairly awful job of hiding everything she felt needed hidden._

_ "What?" He grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands up to his mouth to drop kisses on them. _

_ She shook her head. She knew she was out of shape and had she thought about it, she might have decided to wait on this next step until after she was back to her normal fitness level, when she would be proud of the way she looked. "Don't, please?"_

_ His face revealed his disappointment. "I can't look at you?"_

_ "I don't normally look like this." She was growing more embarrassed by the second, but she was afraid if she didn't explain herself, Elliot might change his mind about being attracted to her. "I've put on weight, I'm flabby, I'll get back in shape soon, I swear."_

_ And then it wasn't disappointment in his eyes. It was sorrow and guilt and love. A fucking lot of love. "No, Olivia, you're beautiful. That's why I want to look at you."_

_ Her cheeks flushed as she dared to meet his eyes. "Really?"_

_ He smiled, pulling her into his chest and hugging her close. "Really."_

_ The feeling of skin on skin brought her right back into the mood and despite wanting to snuggle into his protective arms, she knew her body had other plans before it would allow any cuddling. _

_ She turned her face into his neck, pressing kisses up to his ear. "Just don't stare at me."_

_ He turned back, capturing her lips again, breathing out words in between. "No promises on that."_

_ It was only a second later when he was leaning over the bed, holding her firmly in his arms while she bent backwards. But rather than the cool softness of the bed, her back landed on something warm and hard._

_ And furry._

_ Moose barked as he scrambled out from under them, glaring at them as though to rebuff them for ruining his nap. Olivia laughed, appreciating his presence for diffusing the tension. Elliot, on the other hand, wasn't amused._

_ He jumped up, grabbing Moose by the collar and pulling him toward the door. "Get the hell out, dog, move it!"_

_ "Hey!" She was up in a flash, slapping Elliot's hands away from the dog. "Don't you dare yell at him! He didn't do anything wrong."_

_ Elliot hung his head, probably recognizing his own mistake without needing her reprimand. "I know, I know, I'm sorry." He patted Moose's head before asking him nicely to leave the room. "Please buddy? I've been waiting for this for fourteen years and I swear to god I'm going to lose my fucking mind if I have to wait another second."_

_ Laughing at Elliot's attempt to reason with Moose, Olivia pointed out the door. "Moose, out!" Her efforts were rewarded with Moose trotting out of the room and then flopping down on the floor immediately outside. She closed to the door behind him and turned to Elliot. "You ever yell at him like that again, Elliot, and you'll be sleeping outside without a pillow, got it?"_

_ Elliot nodded, but his lips curled up into a smirk as he did._

_ She narrowed her eyes. "What?"_

_ He motioned toward her with a grin. "You're really kind of distracting without a shirt. You should probably get dressed if you're going to yell at me."_

_ Moving around him and lying down on the bed, Olivia raised one eyebrow. "Promise you won't do it again and I promise I won't get dressed."_

_ "Deal." The word wasn't even out of his mouth before he was on top of her, making up for lost time, picking up right where he'd left off._

_ Which was driving her out of her damn mind with his tongue._

_ He kissed and tasted across her throat and collarbone and slowly made his way to her breasts. He took his time with each, softly caressing them with his hands while teasing her nipples with his tongue. She sighed in happiness and curled her fists around the blanket, holding on for the delightful ride she knew was coming._

_ She wasn't disappointed, feeling Elliot's mouth slowly work down across her abdomen, stopping only while he removed her pants and underwear. He kissed his way back up her legs, torturing her with his deliberately slow progress toward her core. She thought she would die when she finally felt his breath tickling her._

_ Her back arched in anticipation, her eyes closing and her voice escaping in a growl as his lips closed over her. "Oh, god!" _

_ She'd never felt anything like it in her life. Maybe it was the dry spell. Maybe it was the relentless way he'd flirted with her for so many years. Maybe it was his inordinately talented mouth. Whatever the hell it was, she was completely convinced she knew what it was like to have an out of body experience. His mouth worked against her clit, his tongue rubbing and licking and tasting and teasing, and just when she thought she was going to scream at him to finish her off, his hand worked between her legs, his thick fingers pushing inside her._

_ She was going to scream. She knew it._

_ The problem was that she was going to scream Elliot at the top of her fucking lungs and she didn't have the faintest fucking clue how she was going to explain that to the neighbors._

_ And Elliot, quite busy with pleasing her beyond rational thought, had no idea of her dilemma. He wasn't about to be deterred, and in all honesty, she had no desire whatsofuckingever to deter him. Instead, when she felt the crest about to break, when his hand began to move faster and faster in and out of her, her last coherent thought was to pull a pillow over her face to muffle the sound._

_ Then there was nothing but pleasure. There was nothing but amazing light and brilliant sparkles dancing behind her eyes. _

_ As she came back to her utterly relaxed body, she felt her heart pounding from the most strenuous workout she'd had in a quite a long time and she felt Elliot's body sliding along hers, felt his rock hard erection straining against his pants._

_ And finally she could breathe when he lifted the pillow she'd forgotten about from her face._

_ "You trying to smother yourself?" He grinned as he leaned down to kiss her. "Never really took you for the kinky type."_

_ She laughed, a light sort of laugh she wasn't sure she'd ever had occasion to laugh before. "I was afraid of what the neighbors would think when the name I screamed wasn't Ben."_

_ He took it as a compliment; a quite happy, decidedly smug smirk worked its way over his lips. "Sorry, I'll be more considerate next time."_

_ "Speaking of considerate," she let her wiggling hips finish the thought, reminding Elliot that they were far from finished._

_ His happy grin remained in place while he rolled off her long enough to shove off his pants and boxers. He settled against her parted thighs again, his body coming to rest intimately against hers. Rather than a first time, it felt like they'd been there a million times before, like their bodies were already well acquainted, like it was a dance they'd done together many, many times._

_ Elliot remained still for a long moment, propped up on his elbows as he gazed down at her. It was strange to hear his voice sounding normal, a bit softer, but still normal, in that position. "I can believe this is actually happening."_

_ She couldn't believe it herself, but she didn't want to start sobbing about how long she'd been waiting for the man to realize they were meant to be together. Instead she tried to lighten the moment, satisfied that they both understood exactly how much it meant. "If you don't hurry up, I might fall asleep before it actually happens."_

_ Sure, it was only a few minutes after six in the evening, but he'd already put her through such a workout that she wouldn't mind a little nap. She'd much prefer finishing what they'd started though. Especially when he shifted, causing his dick to press against her center, sending a wave of heat through her that coiled between her legs, instantaneously undoing what he'd just done._

_ His eyes were dark with passion when he moved again, putting all of his weight on one arm while he reached the other back and maneuvered her thigh high on his waist. His hand moved between them then as hers fisted once more in the sheets. He was dead serious when he paused, the head of his penis just barely brushing against her._

_ She moaned in frustration, dying for the feel of him inside of her._

_ "You sure about this?"_

_ She knew her face was the picture of exasperation looking up at him. "Are you fucking kidding me? You want to have a little chat right now?"_

_ He didn't answer her, at least not right then. He grabbed her waist with his free hand, holding her still while he pushed himself fully inside her in one thrust. He stilled again, and Olivia imagined he needed a moment to get adjust to the unbelievably perfect way it felt for them to be together like that. She certainly did. That one thrust from him and she was ready to scream from a second orgasm._

_ His face dropped down, his lips grazing her ear. "I meant that there's no going back now."_

_ She turned toward him, nipping at his jaw line. "Good. I don't ever want to go back." She moved to kiss him again, his mouth meeting hers halfway, their tongues continuing to learn each other's contours as their lower bodies began to move in unison._

_ It was the most exquisite feeling she'd ever had, his body moving above her, inside her, the air thick with his scent all around her, the sounds of his grunts filling her ears, his rhythmic movements almost hypnotic. She couldn't think, she could only feel and she could only feel him. It seemed that her body didn't exist anymore; no, neither did his. There was now only one body, only one mind. They were one, physically demonstrating what she'd felt since the day she'd met him._

_ Her hands moved from the sheets, her fingers trying to find purchase on his sweat-slicked back. She dug in with her nails, fearing that if she didn't hold on to him, he might slip away like a dream. If he noticed the way her nails cut into his back, he gave no indication, unless his answer was to bite down on the skin of her neck. She barely noticed the flash of pain, she only recognized it as his way of marking her, much like her nails were doing to him. She didn't care. He could leave love bites all over her body and she'd never complain. He could stake his claim on her as many times as he wanted._

_ She was his. She always had been._

_ It was far too soon when she felt her muscles clenching, her legs moving to encircle his waist, her nails digging further into his flesh. Her internal muscles started to tighten as well, letting him know she was close. He answered by quickening his pace, thrusting harder and faster and, with the benefit of her newly moved legs, deeper. She heard the scream, but didn't even recognize it as her own voice. Her whole body tightened painfully for the briefest of moments as the sensations crested over her, washing out her consciousness._

_ He was still moving above her when she opened her eyes, but his frenzied pace had become sloppy and she recognized that he was there too, following her over the edge just seconds later. He collapsed onto her, his skin slapping against hers, his arms shaking from the exertion. His hot breath tickled her throat, sending shivers raking through her. She'd never been so happy and content in her life. She never wanted to move._

_ They remained there forever, a tangled pile of skin and sweat and love and sex._

_ When Elliot lifted his head, she nearly cried. She wasn't ready to move yet. She wasn't ready to feel him slipping out of her and splitting them back into two different entities. But he didn't move far, only far enough to see her face._

_ "You want to get up?" She shook her head, unable to find the strength or coordination to speak. "Am I too heavy?" She shook her head again. "So, we're going to sleep?" She nodded that time, a smile spreading across her face. "So no dinner tonight?" _

_ She laughed, she couldn't help it. Elliot was pouting at her, after they'd finally, actually had sex, because he wouldn't get dinner. "How about a nap and then dinner?"_

_ He grinned, pulling the blanket over them and rolling them onto their sides. "Sounds good." His lips moved in for a quick kiss. "Though I might not be willing to let go of you for a while."_

_ She snuggled her head against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady under her ear. "I'm ok with that." The sound of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep in no time at all._


	56. Chapter 56

Part Fifty-Six  
_After_

_Waking up securely wrapped in Elliot's arms was hardly a new sensation for Olivia. She'd grown quite used to the warmth and strength he folded around her. Waking up securely wrapped in Elliot's arms with absolutely nothing between them, however, was new. _

_She lay there, soaking up the feeling, realizing that for the first time in her life she could actually declare that she was happy. Truly happy. The idea pulled an involuntary laugh from her throat. She'd never once in her life expected to be happy. After so many years of only knowing the misery of a stressful job and being alone, she'd thought she not only wouldn't be happy, but that she couldn't be happy. It seemed like such a foreign concept._

_And yet there she was, waking up and laughing from sheer glee._

_"Something funny?" Elliot's voice was rough and thick with sleep and perhaps something else as he brushed his lips across the back of her neck._

_She rolled back to face him with a grin, pausing to steal a kiss from him before she answered. "No, I'm just happy."_

_He held her eyes for a long moment as a smile spread across his face. "I'm glad you're happy." He leaned in, his lips pressing against hers again. "I certainly hope I've got something to do with that."_

_Unused to happiness as she was, Olivia started to feel silly with her dopey grin that wouldn't budge. She ducked her head, leaning it against his chest. "Well, you've got something to do with me still being alive, so I think it's safe to assume you've got something to do with me being happy too."_

_His arms tightened around her and he hugged her close. "Well, I'm happy you're breathing too, but I'm happy about plenty more than that." His stomach growled loudly and he laughed. "I'm also more than a little hungry."_

_"Dinner's going to have to wait until after my shower." Reluctantly, she sat up, stretching her deliciously sore muscles._

_"I'd ask to join you, but I need sustenance before we go another round." He stood, revealing exactly as much modesty as she expected – none at all. Not that he had any reason to be modest. "I'll see what I can scrounge up while you're in the shower."_

_Taking full advantage of the opportunity, she eyed him from head to toe slowly. "Wow, all this and he cooks too. How did I ever get so lucky?"_

_He didn't bother to be embarrassed; he simply turned it back on her, giving her the same careful examination. "I'm the lucky one here."_

_She rolled her eyes and stood up. "I'm taking a shower." She turned away, slightly uncomfortable. Elliot had never been one to sugarcoat the truth with her, and yet now, she feared he was just being nice to her despite what she knew had to be a disappointing view. Though they were fading, she still had bruises, their awful yellow color actually less attractive than the purple and blues they'd once been, and whether he acknowledged it or not, she was aware of the extra weight in her middle, the bit of padding she'd put on over several years as well as during her illness. She longed for the young, tight body she'd once had, the one she'd had when they met, the one she knew he would have enjoyed looking at far more. She'd attributed the changes in her body and appearance to getting older, but Elliot had a few years on her and he was in better shape than he'd been in fourteen years earlier. _

_As soon as she got clearance from the doctor, which she needed because she wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize the kidney he'd given her, she was going to change her ways, she'd work out hard and get herself back into the condition where she wouldn't be ashamed of letting herself be seen in the nude, not for herself or her vanity, but for him. Because Elliot had saved her life and he cared about her and he deserved something nice to look at._

_By the time she'd showered and dressed, a delectable aroma was wafting up the stairs. Her own stomach growled in response and she followed the scent to the den where Elliot had set out a tray with two plates. _

_"God, that smells really good. I thought you couldn't cook." She sat down beside him, trying to appear completely nonchalant as she silently panicked over how close she was supposed to sit._

_"I can't cook. But I can read." He offered her a plate, which she quickly realized held a microwaved dinner. "It's one of your healthy ones."_

_The plastic dish slid around on the plate, revealing that he hadn't bothered to dump the contents out. Apparently he expected her to eat her dinner out of the slightly melted black dish, which seemed so much less healthy than the box had proclaimed. "It smells good." She smiled, recognizing that she wasn't much better in the kitchen. _

_She jumped when he leaned over, erasing any space between them and nuzzling his nose into her damp hair. "So do you."_

_She batted him away. "I smell the same as I always do." _

_He didn't seem deterred, likely because he'd already helped himself to half of his own dinner. "You always smell good." His lips brushed against her throat. "Good enough to eat."_

_She pushed him away again. "Stop! I'm trying to eat my dinner."_

_With an exaggerated pout, Elliot sat back. "You're no fun at all." He picked up his own plate and started shoveling forkfuls of food into his mouth Olivia couldn't help but wonder if he was even able to taste it._

_"Oh, come on! You were hungry ten minutes ago." She elbowed him, expecting that he'd relent._

_But he just shifted away, shaking his head as he continued to inhale his food._

_She let him play his little game for a few minutes, giving her time to eat her meal. When she finished, she replaced her plate on the tray and turned toward the pouting man beside her. "Gee, I wish there was a way to get you to forgive me." She couldn't quite keep the grin off her face as she reached over to remove Elliot's plate. When he continued to pretend he wasn't interested, Olivia straddled him, seeing the surprise and pleasure reflected in his eyes at her unexpected movement._

_His body reacted almost instantly, his hips moving up to press himself between her legs. He gave up his attempt to feign disinterest in her. His head fell back against the couch as she moved her mouth to his neck. She nipped at his neck lightly, hearing his growl of appreciation and laughing._

_She shifted further back, drawing her hands down his chest and onto his lap as she lowered herself to the floor. He widened his legs instinctively for her to lean between them and ran his hand gently over her hair. _

_His fingers drifted over her arms as she worked the button on his pants. "Hmmm, you seem to have forgiven me already." She glanced up with a wink. The desire and longing in his heavy-lidded eyes nearly took her breath away, so she tried to lighten the mood. "Maybe I shouldn't bother trying to make it up to you."_

_The need and adrenaline and love and want were obviously overpowering him when, rather than speaking, his only response was a half smile. But he didn't need to say anything. He didn't need to say please. He didn't need to beg her. He didn't need to assure her that she didn't have to. She already knew._

_Anybody who thought a woman was in the weaker position when she was on her knees had never seen a look like that. It made her feel strong and powerful and in control. It made her feel good. She had every intention of rewarding him for the ego boost of seeing how very much he wanted her exactly the way she was._

_So she smiled and then went about doing just that._

_By the time Friday rolled around, Olivia was worried. Either they'd been replaced by teenagers or they were suffering from a terrible case of excessive hormones. It had only been a few days, she reminded herself, and relationships were always exciting and addicting in their early stages. Still, she'd never felt quite so insatiable. Every time she looked at Elliot, she'd have a flash of memory of his bare body, moving above her, inside her, his muscles straining, his face intense, and then she'd be so turned on that she'd pounce on him. Conveniently, it seemed Elliot had the same reaction to her and had woken her up several times each night by rolling on top of her._

_So when Elliot called to tell her he was walking to the barbeque with his friends since it was so close to the office and asked her to meet him there, she was disappointed. Not because she'd have to show up at a stranger's house for a party she'd only tangentially been invited to, but because she wouldn't be able to drag Elliot onto to the closest surface – horizontal or vertical, as walls seemed to be fair game – for a quickie as soon as she saw him._

_Though decorum demanded otherwise, she couldn't help but wonder if they wouldn't be able to sneak off into the hosts' bathroom before dinner._

_The newness and physicality of their new relationship had another benefit beyond the obvious and that was to keep Olivia's mind off her new career. She was scheduled to start the following Monday, having received clearance for a probation period from Dr. DeMarco and she was nervous. It was easier on her to be obsessed with thinking about Elliot or about having sex with Elliot than to contemplate her fears about returning to a teaching position for the first time in twenty years._

_And so it was when she walking up to an unfamiliar door to attend a party with people she didn't know when she still tripped over her husband's name most of the time that those nerves chose to appear. She hadn't seen Elliot since their early morning romp between the sheets, and despite his reliable phone call, she missed him and wished he was there with her to sooth her nerves. Her hands were sweating as she checked her phone, leaving a smear across the screen as she double-checked the address for the umpteenth time. The house was a cookie-cutter of all the others on the street halfway across the base and gave no indication of having a party. There was even room in the driveway, though Olivia felt more comfortable parking on the street in front of the house._

_Perhaps the reason she felt the most nervous, however, was the two-hundred pound dog she'd brought with her out of fear of what he'd do alone in the house all evening. She peered at the house, hoping to suddenly see some indication that she was expected, and then turned to Moose whose head was resting on the back of the front seat._

_"Well, Moose, can I trust you to behave?" _

_He cocked his head to the side, raising his doggy eyebrows and staring back at her, probably waiting for the few magic words that merited a verbal response, like walk and food._

_She grinned at the dog who'd quickly become one of the two best friends she'd ever had. "Have you ever had a hot dog?"_

_Moose continued to stare, but he was catching on to the fact that she was trying to interact and began to wag his tail, the enormous appendage thumping against the window so hard Olivia feared it would break._

_Letting them both out of the car and choking up on Moose's leash to keep him under control, she scratched behind one of his ears. "You can have whatever charbroiled meat they attempt to feed me." When Moose looked up at her curiously she smiled. "Don't tell your daddy. I despise barbeque, the taste, the smell, the slightly rancid potato salad that sits out in the heat all day and night." _

_She busied herself with blabbering nonsensically to Moose as she walked up to the door of the house, trying not to be so worried about what would happen. Panicking made no sense, she reminded herself, the worst thing that could happen was that she was at the wrong house or that Moose wasn't welcome. Certainly in her career as a cop she'd faced far more nerve-racking situations._

_Still, her heart was pounding in her throat when she rang the bell._

_She was on the verge of hyperventilating when a petite Asian woman opened the door. Olivia's hand fisted tighter around Moose's leash when she saw the woman's eyes widen._

_But the woman didn't back up or scream or slam the door. She smiled up at Olivia and extended her hand. "You must be Abby! I'm Evelyn, Joe's wife. Come on in," she said with a nod. "Everyone's in the back."_

_Olivia smiled weakly, trying to calm her racing heart and avoid having the rest of her panic attack with Elliot's new friends, and Elliot for that matter, there to witness it. "Great," she squeaked. After clearing her throat, she tried again. "Thanks for having us." She patted Moose's head. "This is Moose. I'm sorry for bringing him without letting you know, but we just adopted him and I was afraid to leave him alone."_

_Evelyn nodded. "We've got two Labradors. I know all about what they do when they're lonely!" Though she was nearly eye-to-eye with him, she bent over to address Olivia's companion. "Hello there, Moose. Come meet some friends."_

_Friends was apparently one of those words Moose had heard before and he let out a loud bark and his tail began wagging again._

_Evelyn led the pair through the house and ushered them onto the deck where a group of about ten women and quite a few children had gathered. Some of the women looked up expectantly, mostly seeming slightly let down upon seeing it was only Olivia who'd arrived. The children mostly squealed with excitement when they noticed Moose, though two of them recoiled in terror and ran to their mothers._

_Olivia let Moose off the leash, turning him loose to play with the twin brown dogs galloping in the fenced yard. She looked around, taking in the women who barely seemed to notice she was there, the children who couldn't care less, and the cold, empty grill standing next to the back door. The panic started to rise up when she realized she must have gotten some piece of information terribly confused. She turned back to Evelyn, smiling awkwardly at her host. "When you said everyone, I thought that-"_

_Evelyn nodded. "The guys will be here. Some of them aren't off yet, I sent the rest to pick up drinks and the charcoal that I completely forgot."_

_A thought struck Olivia then and she reached out, gently touching Evelyn's arm. "Oh, I have fruit salad in the car. I forgot to bring it in."_

_Evelyn stepped toward her friends, waving her hand at the house. "The door's unlocked. Make yourself at home."_

_Halfway back to the car, Olivia fought the urge to make herself at home by driving there and forgetting about the party altogether. It was only the thought of abandoning Moose and embarrassing Elliot that dragged Olivia back inside with her arms full of the giant bowl of fruit salad which she'd brought mostly to ensure that she would have something to eat. She left it in the kitchen with the rest of the requisite foods, including the potato salad that wasn't in the refrigerator as expected, and then returned to the porch._

_As she stepped through the sliding glass doors, she heard a voice calling her, though it still took a minute for her to remember her new name._

_"Abby? Abby, is that you?" And there was Kathy Crawford, her new boss and friend. "I didn't recognize you with your hair back."_

_She smiled, returning the overly intimate hug, feeling better to recognize someone, as new as that relationship was. "Don't feel bad, we've only met once." She felt no desire to point out that she hadn't recognized Kathy either. "I didn't expect to see you here."_

_Kathy stretched her arm around Olivia's shoulder and led her over to the women. "Ladies! This is my friend Abby Reilly. She's our new English teacher for the summer program." Kathy was so eager and excited that Olivia had to smile. Judging from the visible pride in having filled the position, Kathy had been every bit as desperate to find a teacher as Olivia had first suspected._

_Olivia nodded and shook hands with the women, trying to file away a rapid exchange of names. She hadn't realized it, but the party was being held in the neighborhood that attended San Onofre School and she was meeting her students and their parents with no warning. Her sweaty palms rubbed into the fabric of her denim shorts and she sorely wished she'd had a warning so she hadn't shown up in shorts and a tank top with her hair tied up in a messy ponytail._

_For the previous few days, she'd only been getting dressed for the experience of having Elliot strip the clothes from her body and frankly, when they were done, her hair never looked like it had been brushed in the first place._

_Trying to fend off questions and the inevitable revelation that she'd done nothing in the way of preparing for the job yet, she raised her hands and shook her head. "No school talk today! We're at a party!"_

_"I heard that!" A deep, unfamiliar voice joined in, drawing the women's attention to the group of men arriving, each holding a case of beer or soda. "We got the beer, we got the girls, looks like we're ready." A chorus of cheers answered him._

_Olivia was one of the lucky women who stepped forward to greet her husband. Elliot was looking for somewhere to drop the beer he was holding and she was chomping at the bit to grab him. It had been far too long since she'd touched him and she no longer had any qualms whatsoever with trying to drag him off to somewhere a little more private._

_Of course, the sight of him in his perfectly fitting uniform made her no particularly care if it was private. She just wanted him. Swallowing hard, she leaned in the direction of the person tugging on her arm, unable to pull her eyes away from the muscles working in Elliot's forearms. God she loved his arms. And his hands. And his face. And his mouth. Fuck. She wasn't sure she could wait another second._

_Unfortunately, it was Kathy, not Elliot whose voice found its way into her ear. "Don't tell me that ridiculously gorgeous man is your Ben."_

_Caught off guard, both by the fact that she'd called him Ben and by the fact that she could legitimately call him 'her Ben,' Olivia could only smile._

_Evelyn sidled up to the two of them, questioning one or both of them. "Who's the new guy? I have to remember to invite him over a lot."_

_Olivia's smile widened, her eyes still glued to Elliot, who'd finally freed his hands and was finally approaching._

_It was Kathy's voice that answered. "That Greek god appears to be lucky Abby's Ben."_

_There was probably more of the conversation, but Olivia didn't notice. She was otherwise occupied, meeting Elliot halfway toward the blistering kiss he offered her by way of a greeting. When they came up for air, she grabbed him tight, pulling him into a hug in case her kiss had left him any room for doubt that she was happy to see him._

_Something, probably the loud laughter she belated noticed, drew her from her Elliot-induced fog and she let go of him long enough to look around. Elliot's cheeks were bright red as he did the same, both of them taking in the crowd of onlookers._

_One of the guys nodded toward the house. "You know, Ben, there are rooms inside if you need some privacy."_

_Olivia ducked her head while Elliot, sounding like himself for the first time in a long time, made no attempt to defend his actions as he started to laugh as well. "Yeah, fuck you, Paul."_

_Kathy, who had greeted Paul in a far tamer manner, joined in the teasing. "By all means, please remember there are children present."_

_Nearly as desperate to get the attention off them as she was to get Elliot alone, Olivia grinned and stepped almost an appropriate distance away from Elliot's side. "If we're so concerned with the welfare of the children, perhaps someone should cook their dinners."_

_Paul looked around. "As soon as we find Mike and the charcoal, we'll get the burgers cooking." He stepped forward then, offering his hand to Olivia. "Paul Crawford."_

_Elliot beamed happily at her. "This is my wife Abby." _

_The way Elliot said my made Olivia feel like he was warning the other man off._

_The way Elliot said wife made Olivia want to look for that privacy Paul had referenced. She was certain he'd never sounded quite so possessive when he'd referred to Kathy._

_A galloping Moose who'd apparently just noticed Elliot's presence nearly knocked the other couple down on his way to Elliot's side._

_Elliot chuckled. "And this is our Moose."_

_Paul backed up a step. "You weren't kidding. That's the biggest dog I've ever seen." _

_"Told you so."_

_The next two hours Olivia had to ruefully admit were fun. She could finally see the reason why people actually showed up at barbeques – friends and food and shared laughs. And of course her bent toward panic in the unfamiliar company was decidedly soothed by the fact that Elliot was next to her, pressed up against her side and sometimes with his arm around her shoulders. When they were eating, Moose occupied her other side, resting his head on her lap while she tried to surreptitiously slip him the overcooked meat Elliot kept trying to feed her. She didn't worry about offending her hosts, not with the way Elliot was gobbling up enough for all three of them._

_The only truly uncomfortable part was when someone asked the newcomers a question about Ben's past service or the areas where he'd been stationed. Olivia didn't have the faintest idea of what to say. While she knew the name of a few military bases, she had no idea where they were for the most part nor if they were someplace Ben might have served. Elliot took the lead, probably peppering in bits of his real military career with complete make believe, much like Stafford had suggested for them to use their real information for their anniversary because it would be easier to remember, so Olivia listened closely, trying to absorb what might have really been parts of Elliot's life about which she'd never known._

_But then Evelyn started discussing the new fabric she'd bought to make a new quilt and the guys immediately found something else to do._

_Olivia nearly asked to join the impromptu flag football game to get out of listening to the ladies discuss their craft projects. Luckily she was saved by the kids, some of whom she knew she'd be teaching in a few short days, who declared that sewing was boring and insisted on a movie. _

_She couldn't concentrate on the film though. Despite the welcome she felt from the group, despite Elliot's proximity, she was still filled with dread. The anxiety from her attack, from the unresolved way in which she'd lost her career, the fact that they were more or less undercover for their rest of their lives under penalty of death – it was a lot for anyone to take. And when coupled with her tenuous health and the changes keeping herself healthy required, Olivia figured it was probably a good sign of her mental health that all she was suffering was a desperate attachment to her partner and the occasional panic attack._

_It was only another hour or so when the party started to break up. Kids were falling asleep and the women were bored and the football game seemed to have ended quite abruptly. Elliot had rounded up Moose while Olivia was saving her goodbyes. She was surprised to find him waiting by her car._

_"You're not driving the Jeep home?"_

_He shrugged, turning away to let Moose in the back seat. "We can come over to pick it up tomorrow."_

_Curious because of his quiet demeanor and because, for the first time in several days, he hadn't tried to kiss her after being apart for more than ten minutes, she tried to catch his eye while she put on her seat belt. When he stubbornly kept his face turned away, she knew something was going on._

_"Ok, spill. What's up?"_

_He shrugged, and Olivia took that as a victory. He hadn't denied that something was wrong._

_She reached out, her fingers catching his chin and pulling his face around to hers. "Oh my god, what happened?"_

_"Nothing," He shrugged again, looking down, expecting a reprimand, as though Olivia could do such a thing while his right eye was swollen and his lip bleeding._

_"I thought it was flag football. You get tackled?"_

_He looked at her, apparently insulted. "Which one of those guys do you think could tackle me?" When she only raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed. "It always starts out as a football game and then someone insults someone else's mother and then someone else insults someone's wife and then it's a free for all."_

_Olivia nearly laughed at the mental image of the guys she'd met all pilling on, but it wasn't so funny with Elliot hurt. "So who insulted your wife?"_

_"No one." He glanced at her, but then his eyes darted away._

_"I really doubt that was over your mom, El."_

_Half of his mouth curved up in a smile. "No one insulted you."_

_"Then what did they say?"_

_"Hector said you were hot as fuck."_

_Olivia did laugh then, pleased that they hadn't said something unflattering about her. "That's it?"_

_"Then Matt said he wouldn't mind fucking you and I couldn't let it slide."_

_Olivia shook her head, realizing that it had been Elliot and his temper that had broken up everyone's fun. "Some things never change, huh?" They lapsed into silence for most of the drive back to the house until curiosity got the better of her. "So whose wife did you want to fuck?"_

_Rather than responding with words, Elliot caught her eyes, the pure heat and desire reflected in them telling her she had nothing to fear._

_The visceral reaction of her body nearly caused her to pull over and demand they resolve things there. Instead she slammed her foot down on the accelerator and hurried home._


	57. Chapter 57

Part Fifty-Seven  
_After_

_Following their usual morning activities on Saturday, which were more or less a reenactment of Friday night's activities, Olivia took a shower and tried to face reality. She had forty-eight hours before she would be facing a class full of young adolescents expecting her to teach them something. And short of instructing kids regarding what to do about bad touches, she hadn't taught anyone anything in close to twenty years._

_She had a few books in mind, ones that she'd read at that age herself, but she knew there had been plenty of books published since then and she needed to be up-to-date on literature if she wanted to continue the farce that she'd been teaching for all those intervening years. Armed with her pink rhinestone daisy wallet filled with Abby's credit cards, Olivia parked herself in front of the computer and started researching, signing up for forums and mailing lists that looked reasonable and ordering materials that interested her._

_Elliot came in while she was trying to formulate some kind of schedule, trying to distract her by muttering in her ear about all the things he'd really like to do to her right then._

_But rather than the welcome she normally gave him, the enormity of her new career ruled out the enthusiastic response he was expecting. She batted him away, pointing out the window. "The grass needs cut, Ben."_

_He stared at her for a moment before following her gaze to the slightly overgrown lawn. "You'd really rather I mow the lawn?"_

_She felt bad at the utter disappointment reflecting on his face, but she couldn't deny the nervous feeling coiling in her stomach. It would completely preclude any other sort of feeling coiling in her belly and she supposed a lackluster response to his ministrations would wound him far more than turning him down. She swallowed and forced a weak grin. "Would you believe I have a headache?"_

_He didn't bother responding to that as he looked over her shoulder, his eyes searching the vaguely sketched lesson plan. "Work stuff?"_

_She nodded. "I'm really out of practice with teaching. I doubt I'll even remember what to do when I get in there on Monday."_

_He squeezed her shoulders and offered a reassuring smile. "You'll remember. You'll be the best teacher those kids ever had."_

_"Then I feel really bad for them. They must have had awful teachers." She turned back to her notes and immediately second-guessed all of them, tearing the page from the notebook and balling it up. "I'm in over my head. This was a mistake."_

_His hands stayed firmly on her shoulders. "Close your eyes and take a breath. You went to school for this. You trained for this. You know how to do it."_

_She nodded, wanting to hug him for trying to reassure her, yet knowing that facing him would reveal that she didn't believe a word of it. _

_"You keep working. I won't interrupt and I'll get to the lawn sometime today."_

_The air in the house suddenly felt stifling to her, especially when she thought about having to fake confidence she didn't feel. "Actually, I need to go out to pick up some books and things. Shouldn't take too long."_

_Though she didn't look at him, she could still hear the disappointment in his voice. "Ok. Take your time."_

_It took just under two hours for Olivia to stop by the bookstore and the local teaching supply store to pick up things she hadn't been able to order online. She knew she'd be worried when the credit card bills came due, but buying supplies and books and pens made her feel like she was somehow more prepared to face teaching. When she pulled into the driveway, the front lawn was cut short and when she got out of the car, she heard the roar of the mower in the backyard._

_Letting herself in the house, she left her purchases on the counter in the kitchen and pulled out bread and lunch meat from the fridge. Elliot was mowing the lawn like a good little husband, so she was going to make lunch like a good little wife. As soon as the sandwiches were made, she put them on a plate in the fridge, knowing that Moose would be more than happy to sample her cooking given the first opportunity._

_She looked out the window over the sink, spying the oversized oaf running happily in circles with one of his toys while Elliot pushed the mower._

_But it was Elliot who really caught her attention. He was wearing shorts and sneakers already stained green and a pair of sunglasses. Sweat was dripping down his head and back in the hot sun, highlighting his bulging muscles as they worked._

_In that moment, any thoughts of food or nerves or being unprepared for work flew right out of her head. Instead, her insides twisted in an entirely different, far more familiar way._

_She didn't care if the neighbors saw. She didn't care if Moose watched. She ran out the back door, yanked Elliot's hands free of the lawn mower, and jumped into his arms, demanding the kisses she'd denied him earlier. He caught on quick, unconcerned with the neighbors and the uncut square of grass in the center of the yard._

_He wrapped his arms around Olivia and lifted her, allowing her legs to wrap around his waist, then carted her into the house for a modicum of privacy._

_She was in a decidedly better mood when she snuggled on the couch with Moose a while later, one of her new books in her hand. Elliot was humming as he went to retrieve the sandwiches. For the moment, things were pretty damn good. After he'd made quick work of the plate of sandwiches, he stopped in the living room to give her a quick kiss, then said something about the bushes in the yard, but Olivia barely heard him. She waved vaguely at him to indicate whatever was fine with her; her satiated brain was happily absorbed in a book, her satiated body perfectly content to snuggle up to Moose in Elliot's absence. _

_In her career as a cop, she'd been terribly busy, overworked, and exhausted constantly. The only things she'd read in as long as she could remember were witness statements, court documents, and emails. She'd forgotten how she'd passed her childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood. Books had been the best place for her to hide. She loved to escape into different worlds where characters had better or even worse lives than hers. She loved to analyze what the author was trying to say between the lines. She loved imagining the scenes and thinking of what she might have done differently in the protagonists' positions. Books were her friends because they never let her down. Even if the ending was unhappy, she found something worthwhile in the journey._

_Unfortunately, she wasn't the same person anymore, and as she turned the pages of "Where the Red Fern Grows," she remembered what was coming, took one look at her precious, drooling Moose, and started to sob. It had been bad enough when she was eleven and could only guess how much a person could love a pet. _

_Afraid of what Elliot might think if he found her sobbing into Moose's perpetually stinky fur, she dropped that book and reached for another. "The Diary of Anne Frank" was hardly a happy book, but she rationalized that she'd read it several times over the years and somehow the scope of the horror was so huge that she never quite grasped it. It was still unimaginable to her. Instead, she'd always found something refreshing in Anne's spirit, in her fairly typical path through puberty despite her atypical circumstances._

_This book, however, only lasted through the first ten pages. The innocence of the girl calling her diary Kitty, not knowing her cat was about to be left behind when they went into hiding, not knowing what she was about to face, and worst of all, not knowing that she and her sister would die in a concentration camp just weeks before Bergen-Belsen would be liberated. Again, Olivia was reduced to tears, wondering why anyone would expose children to these horrors, wondering if there were any age-appropriate pieces of literature she could find that wouldn't kill her to read._

_Perhaps, she decided, most children, though sadly not all which she knew from experience, were so unaware of what life held that they weren't affected as deeply as adults were by literature._

_Even as she tried to convince herself that the books she'd picked out were fine, she recalled Anne's first kiss, from a boy named Peter. She recalled the stories of the quiet boy who'd smuggled his cat into hiding with them. And, of course, she remembered Peter's senseless death, in a death march. Naturally, the name Peter only made the tears fall harder._

_Glancing at the other books she'd planned for the summer courses, she wondering if she had the backbone to teach anymore. She wondered if she had the backbone to be a cop anymore, should the opportunity ever arise again. She knew, as much as she hated the thought, that teaching five-year-olds to read would have been a better choice that trying to help older kids living on a military base cope with the realities of becoming an adult and the grim effects of war._

_Hell, sitting in a pre-school and teaching finger-painting would be preferable to introducing kids to the idea of death if they were lucky enough to have avoided the concept so far. It wasn't fair for them to learn about the subject from someone who was so very terrified of it._

_The idea struck a nerve in her psyche, reminding her that, once, not very long ago, she'd never been afraid of anything, certainly not death. Cops couldn't be afraid of death or they'd never get anything done. She'd had a trauma. She'd been attacked. But the important part was the one she kept forgetting: she'd survived. She'd needed Elliot's help, but she'd survived. If anyone was equipped to help kids understand life and death and growing up, it was her._

_"Jesus! What's wrong? What happened?" Elliot was there, kneeling in front of the couch, assessing her for injuries and trying to shove Moose out of the way. "Are you ok?"_

_She wiped at the tears, hugging Moose close. "Yeah, just sad books."_

_He looked over the selection of novels. "You're planning on teaching these?" When she nodded, his face fell. 'That's one hell of a depressing summer." He fished for one on the bottom of the stack and held it up. "And this one, well, it's a horrible choice. Don't do it. These kids' parents are soldiers. Half of them are deployed in war zones. You'll scare them to death."_

_Annoyed that he was questioning her judgment, she sat up and snatched the copy of "My Brother Sam is Dead" out of his hand. "Yes, genius, their parents are soldiers and some of their siblings are probably soldiers and some of them will probably be soldiers too. That's exactly the point. They're probably not all coming home. The kids need to understand that it's a possibility."_

_A familiar fire burned in Elliot's eyes; the "I'm a dad and therefore you are wrong" approach wasn't one of his better qualities. "They're babies. They'll learn that life is fucked up soon enough. Let them watch cartoons a little while longer."_

_"They're not babies. They're gifted children who are growing up in an environment that makes them a hell of a lot more likely to face death at an early age than other kids. I can give them an opportunity – a forum to discuss their fears and their feelings where it's safe and comfortable." She crossed her arms and tried to position the throw pillow on her lap, wishing she'd put on more than her t-shirt and panties following their latest romp. Arguing without pants was embarrassing._

_"Lizzie was so freaked out by that damn book that she crawled in bed with us for weeks asking if Dickie was going to die."_

_She hated to kick him in the teeth, but he'd raised his voice loud enough that someone could easily overhear and she had to remind him. "Who, Ben?"_

_If there was one look she was both more familiar with and despised more than the "childless people can't understand anything" look, it was the one of pure rage on his face at that moment. She was afraid of what he'd say. She was afraid of what words he'd use to cut her to the quick. He didn't explode though. He just walked away, once again leaving her to wonder if he had any plans to return. _

_Letting him sulk rather than giving into the urge to run after him and beg him not to leave her, she headed upstairs to get dressed and put her books and other purchases in the office. She returned to the first floor and put in a load of laundry and headed for the kitchen to finish washing up the dishes, grumbling about how she'd made the food that Elliot had eaten and how it was therefore his responsibility to clean up._

_She looked out the window, half expecting the same sight as earlier even though the lawn mower was long silent. Elliot was there all right, still half dressed, still all dripping sweat and rippling muscles. Next to him lay a pile of clippings that had once been a bush, the hedge clippers in his hand indicating that he'd taken out his frustrations out on the weeds._

_There was no scowl on his face, no tension in his jaw, no evidence that he was still angry. No, he was smiling as though he didn't have a care in the world._

_Likely due to the presence of an obnoxiously beaming Allyson, clad only in a bikini, who had her head thrown back as she laughed hysterically at something Elliot had said. Elliot was full of snarky one-liners which, on the rare occasion, pulled a smile from her. Nothing he ever said was that funny._

_And certainly nothing he ever said was so funny that Olivia had needed to grab his arm to support her because she was laughing too hard to stand up._

_She narrowed her eyes and denied her instinct to run outside in order to call the bitch a home wrecker. Instead, she stood there for a moment, glaring unhappily at the pair, before a grin made its way across her face. She remembered Allyson's reaction to seeing Moose for the first time and so, threw the back door open to let Moose run outside._

_She almost laughed at the high-pitched shriek that sounded a moment later._

_The only words that passed between them all evening were Elliot's comment that turning Moose loose was a rotten thing to do when she knew full well that Allyson was terrified of him and Olivia's retort that Allyson should have stayed in her own yard if she was so afraid of their dog._

_Olivia went to bed early, feigning sleep when Elliot came in a few hours later. It was the first night they haven't made love since that first time and eventually, Olivia cried herself to sleep thinking that it was a bad precedent to set. Once the primal attraction between them wore off, she knew they'd have to face deeper issues about how very different they were. She wasn't ready for that yet; she'd been expecting a longer honeymoon period._

_Sunday passed quietly, silently, in fact, since neither one of them dared to break the suffocating tension. She forced herself to read her books, regardless of how depressing they were, and was glad when it was late enough in the evening to go to bed. She already dreaded going to work and she sorely missed the encouragement that Elliot would have provided, had he been speaking to her at the time._

_Monday morning arrived and dumped a bucket of butterflies with bowling balls in her stomach. She listened to the sounds she was growing used to, the sounds of Elliot waking up, getting dressed, taking Moose for his run. As much as she hated being alone, she was kind of thankful for the half hour of privacy where she could stop pretending to be excited and ready to face working. Elliot hadn't seemed to notice her building dread, either believing her act or letting it go without questioning it._

_Finally alone for the first time all weekend, she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how bad it would look if she called out sick on her first day. Perhaps the worst part was that she wasn't expected in until ten, leaving her several hours to panic after Elliot went to work. She thought it might have been easier to have to get up and dressed and head off to work at the same time Elliot was leaving._

_Sometimes faking energy and excitement turned into the real thing._

_Instead, she had rolled onto her side and curled up in the fetal position by the time Elliot returned for his shower. He let Moose take his spot on the other side of the bed as he usually did, but stopped before he headed into the bathroom._

_Finally, he gave and broke the silence. "You ok, Liv?"_

_Fairly certain she'd be paralyzed by fear at the front door and unable to leave, she didn't bother to fake a smile. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I'm tired, think I'm going to sleep another hour or so." She didn't have the energy to be honest or to touch on their fight._

_He didn't move, his hesitation revealing his worry. But rather than challenge her and start another argument, he sighed. "Want me to set the alarm?"_

_"Nah, I'm alright." She wished she was comfortable enough to sleep, but there was no chance of her actually oversleeping, though that too seemed preferable to actually getting up and going to work._

_Elliot remained there for a long moment before he gave up and went to take his shower. Olivia pretended to be half asleep when he came out, mumbling something incoherent at him when he bent down to give her a kiss goodbye. She continued to lie there, hearing him making his breakfast, then listening to the Jeep starting and driving away. She wanted to run after him, beg him to save her from the job she'd insisted on getting. For a long time she seriously considered calling him and telling him she was sick and needed him._

_Instead she swore to herself that she wouldn't let their relationship make her dependent on him. Well, at least not any more dependent than she already was._

_Finally, and only because the idea of being late on her first day was worse than going in on her first day, Olivia dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. She went through the motions of putting on her makeup and picking out clothes, trying to rationalize away her fears. She was not afraid of children; on the contrary, she loved kids and wished she'd gotten around to having her own. She was not afraid of Kathy, nor of any other individuals she might meet. She was not afraid of driving or of leaving the house. There was no reason for her fear. It was in her head. She knew she could overcome it._

_She stood in the kitchen, knowing she was too upset to eat breakfast and trying to think what she might be able to eat for lunch. Far too frazzled by the decision, she tried to talk herself out of her panic. What she was afraid of, she knew, was something that had already happened. She'd already been attacked. She'd already watched Peter's murder. She'd already been stabbed. She'd already nearly died from her wounds. She'd already had a kidney transplant and moved all the way across the country with her partner and assumed a new identity._

_No wonder a new career was the last straw. She'd already blown the numbers off the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale. She needed a damn vacation, not a new job. Unfortunately, she'd sought out a job and accepted it. She wasn't one to back down from her commitments._

_So she packed herself a sandwich, forced herself to have a piece of toast and a glass of orange juice, took a deep breath, and then headed to work._


	58. Chapter 58

Part Fifty-Eight  
_After_

_In retrospect, her nerves leaving the house were ridiculous. The real anxiety was when she got to the school. Her legs felt like they were made of stone and she had to work to get herself out of the car. Her feet grew progressively heavier as she walked, more like shuffled with the way she could barely lift her feet off the ground, toward the imposing brick building. She hadn't remembered it being imposing; in fact, she knew anyone not in the midst of a panic attack would laugh at her for considering the one-story structure imposing._

_Still, at that moment, it might as well have been the door to Sealview she was pulling open. She was damn sure it made the same hideous, heavy clanging sound as it closed behind her. There were children walking through the halls, their faces smiling, their mouths moving, but she could only hear a dreadful silence and the rush of blood in her ears. Her eyes darted around, trying to recall if there was a bathroom nearby where she could be sick._

_Rather than a welcome door, her eyes fell on a child who had stopped in front of her. The boy's lips were moving and Olivia had to actively focus on hearing him to drown out the echoes of panic in her head._

_"Hi Mrs. Reilly! Did you bring Moose today?"_

_She stared at dark haired boy and tried to place him. She'd always been good with names and faces, and immediately realized she could only have known him from the barbeque. The task of sorting through the memories gave her something to concentrate on besides her churning stomach._

_It only took a second for her to spot the large bruise on his leg which had drawn her attention those few days earlier due to its size. She remembered his mother and his baby sister who'd spent half the time at the barbeque screaming. The mother's name was Angie, the baby's Shyla, which only left…_

_She grinned and shook her head. "Sorry, Caleb, I'm here to teach today. Moose is at home having the day off. You guys wore him out at the party!"_

_Caleb pouted for a moment. "Maybe you can bring him tomorrow!"_

_With no desire to dash his hopes, Olivia smiled politely. "We'll have to see. Maybe if everyone does their homework and works hard in class, Moose can come visit sometimes."_

_His sweet pout turned into a full blown frown. "Aw, homework? What kind of summer camp is this?"_

_Olivia chuckled as Caleb trudged away, thankful she didn't have to tell him it was kind of like summer school, except that it was optional and not a punishment. Unless, of course, Caleb was a normal kid who wanted a normal summer full of pool parties and pick-up baseball games._

_Though she hadn't really meant it when she said the words, the idea of using Moose as a mascot of sorts, maybe bringing him in as a reward occasionally for a fun class, could be a good idea. It would be a way to motivate the kids and it would give Moose something less boring than sitting around the house alone three days a week. And luckily, the thought was distracting enough that she completely forgot that she was supposed to be panicking._

_By the time she remembered, the panic was gone. She was a bit nervous, but it was a normal level of anxiety like the way she always felt before she was going to testify. Feeling confident in her abilities and in herself, she headed toward the main office to report for work._

_She spent the first hour meeting with the Kathy Crawford and Arthur Myers, the principal, reviewing the school's regulations and the broad strokes of her plans for the summer. Rather than the less than warm reception she'd received from Elliot over her literature choices, Kathy and Arthur agreed with her reasoning. Following the meeting, Kathy showed her to her classroom and bid her good luck. The seating chart and a vague lesson plan she'd downloaded from the internet were the only defenses she had when she sat at her desk and waited for her students to arrive. It was the first time in nearly twenty years that she was facing a class as a teacher, not as a cop there for a single presentation. But she wasn't nervous any longer. Perhaps her nerves had burnt out. She was ready._

_By the time her lunch break rolled around, Olivia had two classes under her belt. She joined the small group in the teachers' lounge, happy to take part in their discussions. She fielded the typical questions regarding her background and her husband, the lies about living the life of a military wife rolling easily off her tongue. _

_For a moment, she thought about Elliot, about his religious tenets, wondering if he'd need to go to confession and ask forgiveness for having told so many lies while he was trying to survive. The lies were entirely justifiable, but she wasn't sure a legal distinction like that held water in Catholicism. Speak of the devil, she thought, when her phone started to vibrate in her pocket. Of course it was Elliot. No one else was going to call._

_She excused herself from the table and stood by herself near the windows. "Hey."_

_"Hey. How's it going?" There was tension in his voice, uncertainty. He wasn't sure if she was still mad._

_She sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. She had to live with the man and she knew full well he wasn't going to change. Ever. "It's ok. I had two classes. I'm at lunch now and then I have a couple of tutoring sessions. I'll be home in about two hours."_

_"Sounds like a long day. How are you holding up?"_

_She stared at the kids playing outside and tried not to be mad. He was worried about her physically. He wasn't questioning her abilities. Instead of calming her like she'd hoped, the thought only upset her, reminding her that he had questioned her abilities, he'd questioned her judgment regarding the books. Kathy and Arthur hadn't batted an eyelash and they didn't know the first damn thing about her. How dare the son of a bitch who knew her better than anyone else ever had not trust her!_

_Clenching her teeth, she nearly growled. "I'm really busy. I'll talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else, carefully disguising the irritation on her face before she returned to the table. She hated that she had to prove herself to him all over again._

_Olivia was curled up on the couch with Moose working on a crossword puzzle when Elliot came home. She waited for him to call out that he was home as usual, but he didn't. Annoyed that he was mad, even though she'd been mad at him first, she looked at Moose._

_"Don't you dare be a traitor, Moose." _

_As always, Moose seemed to understand perfectly. His ears, which had perked up at the telltale signs of his daddy coming home, lowered as he dropped his head back onto Olivia's leg. With a smile, she patted him._

_"Good boy."_

_No sooner had the words left her mouth, Moose jumped up, abandoning her for Elliot who was striding purposefully into the room. She wasn't mad at Moose for turning on her, though, not when she saw the bouquet of flowers Elliot was offering her._

_He sat down on the edge of the couch and met her eyes. "I'm sorry for getting upset. You were trained to teach, you know what you're doing. I shouldn't have questioned that." He leaned his head to the side, a smile curving his lips. "Forgive me?"_

_She buried her nose in the roses to hide her smile. It wasn't possible to stay mad. Not when he had brought her flowers and appeared perfectly willing to grovel. "I don't think you've ever admitted that you were wrong before."_

_He chuckled. "Well, I've never been wrong before." Leaning in, he met her lips for a kiss. "Don't get used to it. I don't plan on being wrong again."_

_She sat up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him. "I missed you."_

_"I'm right here." He held her tight, his hand rubbing up and down her back. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_Sitting back, she let him see her smile at the flowers. "Thank you for these."_

_He grinned. "That's not all. Get dressed. We're going out." He stood up, offering his hand to pull her up. "Hurry up, reservations are in an hour."_

_"Reservations?" She raised her eyebrow. "I thought we were broke."_

_He shrugged. "We can afford dinner and a movie."_

_"A movie too?" She narrowed her eyes. "Is there something I don't know?"_

_"Will you just get ready?" Shaking his head, he led the way upstairs._

_Elliot took her to a French restaurant a few miles outside the gates of the base. The restaurant was tiny, able to hold only a few tables. Though the candlelight and soft, slow music helped set the romantic mood, it was the mural on the walls that really did it – all three interior walls were covered with a realistic painting of Paris' skyline, tiny lights set in the wall emulating stars in the sky. Olivia was mesmerized, staring entranced at the sight, amazed at how very real it felt. Her imagination was getting the best of her because she could have sworn she was actually there, in Paris, on a balcony overlooking the city._

_She reluctantly pulled her eyes from the cityscape to look over the menu, trying to decide what to have while keeping an eye on the prices. Elliot wanted to treat her, but she wasn't going to take advantage of the situation. She had narrowed it down to a couple choices and looked up to see what he was thinking._

_He was staring blankly at the menu, his cheeks burning red in embarrassment visible even in the low light. "Uh, Li-Abby?"_

_She grinned, knowing exactly what the issue was. "Didn't occur to you that a French restaurant might serve French food?"_

_"I expected the French food," he growled indignantly. "I just thought it would be described in English. That's how Italian places do it." He looked around for the waiter. "One of the guys recommended it. Maybe the waiter will help."_

_"I speak French, Ben, remember?" She hadn't mentioned it in years, so she wasn't surprised he hadn't thought of it._

_"You do?" He looked confused rather than shocked. "I thought that was-" He swallowed hard. "Never mind. Chicken. Beef. What sounds good?"_

_His bizarre response called her attention and she couldn't stop herself. "You thought it was who?"_

_"Nobody. I just forgot." It was the look of disgust and the way he worked to hide a snarl that answered her in the way he wouldn't. Dani Beck. She'd spoken French. He might have forgotten that Olivia spoke it, but he clearly remembered that Beck had. _

_No wonder he looked sick. She felt sick. She shook her head, shoving away the memory of the woman who'd dared to call herself Elliot's partner for a short-lived period._

_She forced a smile, wanting the topic forgotten as soon as possible. "I speak Spanish too."_

_Laughing, Elliot shook his head. "I can order my own burritos, but thanks."_

_Thankful that the four-letter word was dropped so quickly, Olivia ordered a bottle of wine and both entrees she'd thought sounded good when the waiter came to take their order. She translated the dishes for Elliot, explaining that she hadn't been able to decide and they could share._

_She could never accuse Elliot of not listening to her. As soon as the plates came, he offered her a bite with his fork. While the food itself was delicious, it was the way Elliot stared at her mouth while she sampled his food that made her moan. His eyes were hooded, his pupils wide. And the way he worked to clear his throat when she licked her lips, well, she almost wished they weren't in such a fabulous restaurant so they could be alone._

_They made a bit of conversation, the dialogue flowing easily between them as she talked about her classes and touched on having had Caleb welcome her. They talked through dinner and dessert and lingered for a long time with their coffee afterwards as they decided to postpone the movie half of their evening out for another night. It was a week night, her first day back to work in a long time, and she was tired. She didn't have to work until Wednesday, but the stress of her first day had worn her out. Still, she was loathe to leave the restaurant so soon._

_There was an older couple on the small dance floor, moving together in a complicated sort of ballroom dance, their movements slower than they probably had been once upon a time, but still in perfect coordination. Olivia wondered what it would be like to grow old with someone, to have someone with her so long that he truly felt like an extension of herself, to know she'd never again have to worry about being alone. Her eyes moved toward Elliot, watching him as he smiled at the couple. She had someone, she reminded herself. Someone just like that. Elliot was a part of her. One of his organs had replaced her own. And she was sure he would always be there for her. He wasn't the cheating sort; she knew that._

_His eyes met hers and she smiled, inclining her head toward the dancers. "Come on."_

_He stared at her, glanced at the dancers, then shook his head. "You know I don't know how to do that, right?"_

_She nodded. "Me either." Reaching for his hand, she stood. "Dance with me."_

_"Yes, ma'am." _

_They might not have known the fancy footwork of the other pair, but it didn't matter. The moment Elliot's arms slipped around her, Olivia didn't care if they were dancing or simply standing still. She could only think of him, of the moment, of how he made her feel. His warm, strong body pressing lightly against her, his solid arms encasing her in their protection, his soft lips resting on her temple. Her arms folded around his waist, hoping to convey the message that she had every intention of still being with him when they were old and gray and that she'd still want to dance with him._

_His face nuzzled closer, his cheek slipping down next to hers, his voice soft as he whispered her name. Her real name. She hated to do it again, hated to be the one always reminding him, but the Simonovichs were dangerous and deadly. It wasn't a chance she could take._

_"Abby. I'm Abby."_

_He groaned and pulled back to look at her. "Not like this you're not."_

_She held his eyes. "I'm always Abby. And you're always Ben." She moved her hands to his chest, sliding her palms up slowly and then locking her fingers behind his neck. "Our names don't change anything important."_

_He shrugged, seeming annoyed by her insistence. "You call me Ben in bed and you're sleeping on the couch."_

_"Speaking of bed," she teased with a smile as her hips shifted against his. "Why don't you take me to one, Benjamin?"_

_He leaned in to kiss her, his hands moving to her hips as he ground against her. "I thought you wanted to dance."_

_Feeling his hardness growing, she laughed. "Are you complaining?"_

_"No. Hell, no." He turned away, waving his hand at the waiter, letting her see a bit of his eagerness following their two-night hiatus. "Check please!"_


	59. Chapter 59

Part Fifty-Nine  
_After_

_Olivia woke up early on Tuesday morning, long before Elliot. She stretched happily, testing her muscles which were still deliciously sore from the athletic activities the evening before. Thinking of how many calories they'd burned off, she decided to get up and make breakfast. She gave Elliot a quick nuzzle and then slid out of bed, allowing Moose to take her spot rather than how he usually waited for Elliot's in the morning. Moose didn't seem to care a bit, flopping over next to Elliot and immediately going to sleep._

_She quietly padded down to the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator and trying to decide what to have. Elliot had treated her to that wonderful dinner and dancing and loving, so she decided she'd treat him back. She pulled out eggs, cheese, milk, ham, and bread, deciding that Elliot would love to wake up to an omelet and toast. _

_Of course, she'd expected that she could handle something as simple as an omelet. Although she was making admirable strides in learning how to prepare respectable meals, it still took her three tries before she wound up with an edible breakfast concoction._

_With a proud smile, she slid it onto the plate just as Elliot was coming down the stairs with Moose._

_He grinned, crossing the room to kiss her. "I get breakfast today?"_

_"I got dinner last night. Seemed fair."_

_"Guess I can skip my run today." He let Moose out the back door and then returned to the table and dug into his omelet._

_Olivia wasn't so hungry anymore, not after having sampled her failed, less-than-appetizing attempts, and so leaned on the counter with her coffee, watching Elliot._

_As soon as the first bite went in his mouth, he made a terrible face, glancing at her and then working to swallow it. "Um," he asked as he picked the omelet apart to investigate the ingredients, "is there ham in this?"_

_Trying not to be annoyed at him, she nodded. "Yeah, ham and cheese."_

_"I don't like ham." _

_She scoffed, knowing she'd eaten a frightening enough number of meals with him that she would have known if he'd ever expressed a dislike of ham. "Since when?"_

_"It's kind of burnt too." He frowned without acknowledging her question and pushed the plate away. "I think I'm just going to have cereal."_

_His words, and his behavior, hurt her far more than she would have expected. Determined not to cry over the insult, she funneled the pain into anger. Maybe she wasn't going to win any cooking contests any time soon, but he could have eaten it. She'd tried it. It wasn't that bad; it wasn't inedible. She snatched the plate off the table and sat it in the sink. She didn't put it in the garbage disposal, though, thinking maybe Moose would appreciate her better._

_Still, she tried to keep the disappointed scowl off her face and to hide her feelings, both the hurt and the rage, as she looked at him. "Suit yourself." She turned away and put some bread in the toaster, staring at the coils inside as they turned a fiery orange, much like her mood was._

_Elliot stepped behind her, reaching up to grab a bowl out of the cabinet and playfully elbowing her in the side. "Maybe you need to dig out that cookbook and try again, huh?"_

_And then she didn't bother to hide the anger. She turned squarely to face him, her arms folding over her chest. "You know, I made you a whole fucking chicken dinner that you didn't eat because you decided to get drunk with your boyfriends and I was here doing half the work with the damn lasagna too. I got up and thought 'maybe Elliot would like breakfast' and I tried to make you something. Sorry if it's not fucking perfect, but at least I'm trying. You could have given up a little effort and eaten two whole bites before you decided I need cooking lessons."_

_His eyes widened and he stepped back, raising his hands. "Sorry, I didn't know it would hurt your feelings. I just thought you might want to practice cooking something while you're here alone all day with nothing to do besides read kids' books."_

_Her eyes widened in disbelief. He wasn't sorry. He may have said the word, but he hadn't meant it. "I have plenty to do all day, like reading those books and preparing lesson plans for my job because, if I remember correctly, we can't buy food unless I work."_

_"Well, whatever you're busy doing all day, it sure as hell isn't laundry. I'm running out of socks." He was grinning; he seemed to think he was funny._

_"Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me?" She wanted to throw her mug at him, but managed to resist, and that was because she'd undoubtedly be the one cleaning it up. She was the little wife, after all._

_He shrugged. "What? You've been to work one day and it wasn't even a whole day! You've got time to throw in a load of laundry."_

_"Right, you're so busy working. What is it that you Marines do all day again? Push-ups? Sit-ups? Jog a few laps?" She moved closer, narrowing her eyes at him, fixing him with a glare that usually stopped criminals in their tracks and speaking in a low, controlled voice. "Don't you forget for one second who you're talking to, Elliot Stabler." Oh, if only she had a gun in the house she'd be happy to remind him._

_He drew in a breath, then swallowed hard, his face sheepish when he dared meet her eyes again. "Fuck, Liv, I'm sorry. Really." He shook his head, reaching out to put his hands on her waist. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking."_

_Not ready to drop it, not after she'd tried so hard, she continued to glare. "You were thinking, and saying, I might add, what a horrible fucking wife I am."_

_He shook his head. "No, no, baby, you're not." He moved his hands to her back, pulling her into a hug. "You're the best wife in the world. I'm just an idiot and I shouldn't speak before I've had my coffee and know better than to say stupid, shitty things to you." He leaned back a little, smiling at her. "How about I make it up to you tonight?" He kept going, trying to calm her anger. "Maybe we can work on having a baby." He winked then, assuming everything was fine. "We had such a good time practicing last night."_

_It was the last straw. She wanted to have a baby. He knew that. He fucking knew. And he didn't have a problem teasing her, probably because he'd already gotten to have a bunch of kids. "So the only wifely duty I'm any good at is fucking, huh? No, I don't think a baby is a good idea. The last thing I need is someone else you'll expect me to clean up after."_

_He kept his arms around her, waiting for her glare to soften. "Liv, stop, this is getting out of hand. I'm sorry."_

_She shoved him away, throwing the remaining breakfast ingredients back in the fridge and dropping the pan in the sink. Moose was scratching at the back door and it served to remind her of how their lives together had once seemed so damn good. Had it really only been a few days?_

_She stormed to the back door, pulling it open to allow Moose entrance. "I guess I'm supposed to let the damn dog in too? I'm supposed to be barefoot, pregnant, and responsible for pet care." She turned to glare at Elliot. "Do I look like Kathy to you?"_

_Elliot's attempt to make up was over as soon as she'd pressed the hot button, evidenced by his raised voice. "You sure as hell don't look like Kathy, so why the fuck are you acting like her?" He continued before she even had the chance to yell. "And the only reason we got the damn dog was because you were too scared to stay by yourself." _

_If Moose didn't understand the words, at least he picked up on the tension. Rather than siding with either one, he plopped down in the middle of the floor halfway between them._

_Olivia's eyes fell on the frying pan in the sink and wished she could brain Elliot with it. He could only benefit from having some sense knocked into him. Her hands clenched into fists and she tried to tamp down the rage. She didn't know how things had gone downhill so fast. She loved him and he said he loved her. Why the hell was he acting so awful? She knew he'd never treated Kathy like this; Kathy wouldn't have stayed married to him. Elliot was used to having a wife, obviously she was a complete disappointment in that arena. Apparently she was a good cop, but a terrible wife. Her face ducked down. She couldn't stand the idea of letting him down. But she couldn't stand the idea of being his housekeeping wife either._

_He must have seen the change in her thoughts. He stepped over Moose and reached for her arm. "Wait, Liv-"_

_She shook her head, pushing his hand away. "Don't."_

_He didn't give up, caging her against the counter. "Look at me."_

_"No." Seeing his face would just make her even more upset._

_"I'm sorry. I really am. I don't even know why we're fighting. I said the wrong thing. I didn't mean to. I thought you wanted to have kids."_

_She squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself not to cry. She didn't want him to comfort her, not when he was the one calling her out on her failures. Grabbing a hand towel, she started wiping the counter and pretended like hell that she wasn't hurting. "I'm not discussing this with you."_

_"Then who the fuck are you going to discuss it with? I'm your husband."_

_She couldn't believe he'd just said that. He was throwing their situation in her face as though it had been up to her. That was one decision she knew had been all his. Hell, she hadn't even been conscious when he'd made it. She turned around, fixing him with a cold stare. "You're not my husband. None of this is real, Elliot." And then she walked away. _

_Because she didn't want him to see her crying._

_She hid out in the office while Elliot showered and dressed. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to hear him. He was probably right about her being a crappy wife. She had no experience with it and honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted any. The marriages she'd seen in her life seemed doomed and miserable. She'd thought perhaps she and Elliot would be ok, at least with their pretend marriage. But she'd been wrong. Even fake marriages were doomed._

_She tried to distract herself all day with working on her plans for her classes, mentally trying to match up the kids she remembered with the names on her class list. She took Moose for a long walk and then put the dishes in the dishwasher, reasoning that she'd dirtied the dishes and therefore was responsible for cleaning them._

_By the time Elliot came in from work, she had a plan. They weren't off playing house for fun. They were together for safety and she knew it was for the best. For now, at least. Even that was subject to change._

_Rather than curled up with a book or diligently working her way through a crossword puzzle like she normally was, Olivia was sitting up and staring nervously when Elliot walked through the door._

_He turned to look at her, the smile dying on his lips. Why he had been smiling, she couldn't say; not only was the fight one of the biggest they'd had in years, but it was also the first time that he hadn't called her during the day._

_"We need to talk."_

_The color drained out of his face as he sat down beside her. "Guess I should have brought flowers today, huh?"_

_"It wouldn't have helped."_

_"It helped last night."_

_She glared at him, unwilling to forget the cruel things he'd said that morning, no matter how perfect he'd seemed the night before. "There aren't enough flowers in the world to fix this morning."_

_She was distracted from her carefully planned speech, her thoughts turning to the wonderful time they'd had the evening before. She thought of how they'd talked and flirted and danced. She remembered the elderly couple and how she'd wanted her and Elliot to be like them one day. But she could imagine that white-haired gentleman needlessly hurting his wife's feelings any more than she could imagine the stout man refusing a meal the woman made for him. She was sure that when that couple had started out together there were plenty of missteps and confusion and bad cooking and unfinished chores. They'd managed to make it through because they loved each other. And while she was sure she loved Elliot enough to keep trying to make things work, she knew there was no way to make it work if he wasn't really in it for the long haul. She couldn't try enough for both of them._

_"Before you get started," he shifted sideways to look at her, his hand moving toward her leg._

_She pulled her leg away, not about to let him schmooze his way out of the conversation she'd been dreading all day. "Just listen, I've already thought this through." She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. As much as she'd been thinking about it all day, her fears paled in comparison to the pain of actually saying it. "We had a good time, Elliot, it was fun. But we have to be serious. This isn't going to work, unless we limit our relationship to being roommates. This is about keeping ourselves alive, not about having fun."_

_His mouth dropped open, obviously not having expected where their fight would lead. "Olivia, no, come on."_

_"I've thought this through, Elliot. It's what's best. We've managed to get along and function quite well together for a long time. Since we started sleeping together, fuck, Elliot, we haven't managed to stop fighting long enough to do anything besides sleep together."_

_One side of his mouth curled up in a sexy smile that Olivia had to remind herself to ignore. "There are worse things, Liv."_

_She shook her head and looked away, telling herself that kissing that damn smirk off his face would only hurt them both in the long run. "No, Elliot, the worst thing that can happen is that we lose the friendship we've had for fourteen years. Nothing is worth that to me."_

_He reached out again, grabbing hold of her hand carefully. "We're not going to lose our friendship. So there are some kinks. We'll work them out."_

_She shook her head, pulling her hand away, reminding herself that he was doing exactly what she'd just mentioned – trying to fuck her so she'd forget about the fight. She could hardly blame him; she hadn't exactly stopped him any other time. "No, Elliot, not anymore. I'm not interested in being your fuck buddy."_

_His eyes narrowed. "What?" He waited, staring at her as though he honestly expected her to unsay what she'd just said. "Olivia, that is not what's going on here. This isn't about sex. We're not about sex. You know that."_

_Again, she shook her head. He was wrong. All they were doing was screwing around until they got tired, had a fight, and then started the cycle over again. "I'm not doing this anymore. We have to think of the big picture, of the future, of," she stopped for a moment, unsure what it was she was saying as she stared back into Elliot's eyes, eyes which she nearly believed were crushed. She looked away to get back on track, telling herself that he was just trying to wear her down. She had to be strong or she'd lose the best friend she'd ever had. "It's done, Elliot."_

_Elliot took a deep breath and sat back, his arms folding across his chest as he set his jaw. He didn't agree, but he seemed to decide it wasn't worth starting another fight which would only prove her point. "Doesn't sound like you really want to 'talk.' Sounds to me like you want to dictate."_

_She ignored the jab and moved on to the next item of business, as though breaking up with the love of her life was only a small matter to be address. "Listen, I've thought this through, and you're absolutely right that I have more time at home than you do. Therefore, I'm willing to do more of the housework." She held up her hand to stop him from cutting her off. "But you also need to remember that you're working a hell of a lot less than you did when you lived with Kathy and so you can certainly do more than you're used to doing."_

_He grimaced, turning away. "I don't expect you to do my laundry. I was an ass this morning and I'm sorry." He looked back at her, stretching his arm toward her again. "If I promise to not stick my foot in my mouth anymore, can we postpone this discussion?" Leaning in, his hand rested on the far side of her legs, caging her in front of him. "We're good together, Olivia. We're just having a little trouble adjusting to all the changes. We can do this." He moved still closer, trying to kiss her._

_With a shove to his chest, Olivia bought herself enough space to get up and cross the room. "I'm not having sex with you. Period. Now that we've got settled, do you think we can have an adult conversation?"_

_His eyes narrowed and he stood up, not daring to approach her. "No, there's no point in having a conversation. Just leave a chore chart on the refrigerator and if I do all my work before the weekend, I'll get my allowance."_

_"Oh, grow up, Elliot. You're an adult. You can handle cleaning the damn bathroom you use every day."_

_"Fuck you, Olivia." He stormed out of the room, stomping his feet as he headed up the stairs._

_She raised her voice, insistent on getting in the last word. "There's no chance of that happening!"_

_She sat back down on the sofa and willed herself not to cry. She'd trusted him. She'd loved him. She'd let him in the walls she'd built up all her life. And he'd hurt her. As soon as he realized he wasn't getting lucky, he couldn't even stay in the same room as her anymore. If he was that much of a jerk, he wasn't worth crying over._

_She tried to remind herself of that as she wrapped her arms around Moose and let her tears drip into his fur._


End file.
